Until It Snows Again
by CozyTeapot
Summary: Jingle Bells, Christmas trees, red-nosed Rudolph. They all try to make this Christmas as normal as possible, just for me. Well, most of them. No "V-word", no hybrids, no magic. They may pretend to act normal. And I will pretend to enjoy this performance for their sake. I won't even bother Bonnie with my confusing visions of some other reality... where it's snowing. [mid-Season 3]
1. Hunt Me Down

**Summary:** Jingle Bells, Christmas trees, red-nosed Rudolph. They all try to make this Christmas as normal as possible, just for me. Well, most of them. No "V-word", no hybrids, no magic. They may pretend to act normal. And I will pretend to enjoy this performance for their sake. I won't even bother Bonnie with my weird visions of some other reality... where it's snowing.

 **A/N:** Well, it's a bit late for a Christmas story, but it was snowing hard, and this inspiration wouldn't let me go, so... I planned to make a small sweet one-shot for Christmas, but I got carried away. I've been writing it since December, and the story became pretty long. So, I thought that it would be better to split the story into 4 chapters. It's COMPLETE! (sorry, I am just so proud that I have actually finished it!) I will be probably posting the next chapter in two-three days.

The story is set during Season 3, but I won't elaborate since it's not important. At first, I wanted to make the story AU, but then I decided against it. Instead, Elena gets glimpses of her life in some other reality and draws a parallel with Christmas in Mystic Falls. Well, since I am a devoted fan of Delena, you can guess that these visions have a lot (close to everything, actually...) to do with a certain someone xD

Anyway! Read and enjoy! Please, don't hesitate to leave me some feedback! The story is not beta-proved, so I am very sorry for all the mistakes there.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but my mistakes.

...

 **Until It Snows Again**

by SparklyLarry

" _Some things are destined to be - it just takes us a couple of tries_

 _to get there._ _" ―_ _J.R. Ward, Lover Mine_

Chapter I

 **Hunt Me Down**

 _"Surely you're not going to cry? Oh, come on! You're better than spilling tears over me! Look around. It is snowing. Damn, it's really snowing!"_

 _"The hell with snow! Just let-"_

 _"Oooh, someone is swearing! Careful, Lena, or you'll end up just like me. In hell."_

 _"Stop it! Please, just stop!"_

 _"What exactly? It's not like I am doing anything! Just enjoying the Christmas night. Ahh, yes, guilty pleasure, to simply lie down and die in the snow. Right!"_

 _"Stop! Stop it or I swear... Oh, great! I can't even say 'or I will go away'!"_

 _"Ahh, I knew you had a better reason to cry than to grieve for me. It's that you can't threaten me anymore that upsets you so much. Good to know! Wow, my conscience is a bit clearer now!"_

 _"Please... Just get inside. Please."_

 _"And miss all the snow? Not happening."_

 _"I don't care whether it snows or rains! God, it may hail for all I care! Damon, just get inside!"_

 _"You mean that I gave up my life for you to see the snow and you don't care? Oh, dammit. I'm dying for nothing. Can it even get more dramatic?" ... "Hey... Fine, I'm sorry, really sorry!" ... "I hate it when you cry, you know? You must be crying just to spite me."_

 _"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid...!"_

 _"Um... Who?"_

 _" I am stupid! ... You are stupid! No, we both are! How could you just... No, how could I just let you-!"_

 _"I knew what I was doing. It's not stupid."_

 _"Look at yourself, Damon! And it is all my fault! Because I was reckless, and rebellious, and...- and merely stupid!"_

 _"Reckless, certainly. Rebellious? Hell, yes! And probably insane. Or crazy? Spontaneous maybe. But stupid is an odd word here."_

 _"No, I-"_

 _"Admit it, you were dying to feel like this! For a long time. Damn, you craved freedom! Always. Every goddamn day in this goddamn raining city. Wasn't it your dream, your insane fantasy, to spin around and go wherever the hell you want?! Whenever the hell you want! And with whoever the hell you want!"_

 _"Yes... yes, it was. It still is. And that's why it should had stayed that way - an insane dream. My secret wish. Fantasy. Well, I got it! An insane fantasy flashed a cocky smile at me and ran away. And next moment this inclement reality washed over me."_

 _"Any regrets?"_

 _... "That is the worst part." ... "I feel guilty... but not sorry." ... "I should, but... I just don't. Can't. And it's my fault that you are here, and I don't want you to-to...-"_

 _"Hey. Remember what I said to that old and pretty lady at the ticket-office? This journey is on me. Well, I meant it. I am willingly paying for it. And you know why? Because I enjoy it. As much as you do." ... "Maybe even more."_

 _... "Too much, actually."_

 _... "Right... So, since this journey is... unhealthy to me anyway, would you (please) indulge me by joining me here in the snow? Just once, and I'll be never nagging you again, that's a promise!" ... "Thank you..." ... "See, it's not that difficult, is it?"_

 _"Don't... Just don't. Please." ... "Damon...? ... Damon?!"_

 _"Still breathing."_

 _... "Thank you."_

 _"For breathing? Well, it's kind of a challenge now, but you're wel-... Fine, fine, a bad joke." ..."But you're welcome anyway."_

 _..."It's simply snowing. Snow, nothing more. But somehow... it is so..."_

 _"Oh, please, say the word!"_

 _"...so magic."_

 _"Magic?! I was hoping for 'romantic'. What? It's a fancy modern word! Magic, for God's sake!"._

 _"Magic is better, Damon."... "But it may be a little bit romantic, too."_

 _"Told you so!"_

 _"Especially when you're keeping these witty remarks to yourself."_

 _"Hell! Great job, Elena! Now you've blown it. Romance's lost, irretrievably and irrevocably." ... "Dammit, not again..." ... "Dammit." ..._

 _... "Looks like this journey ends here after all. Huh, and here I thought that I could fool goddamn Fate."_

 _..."I thought you are not a fatalist."_

 _"I am not. Not that Destiny cares, though."_

 _"Well, we got a chance to meet and.. It's not half bad."_

 _"Oh, no-no-no! I am not satisfied with this Fate's condescension! ... Here is a deal: next time I am taking you on a longer journey!"_

 _..."...how much longer...?"_

 _"Let me think... How about eternity? Eternity with me... sounds like fun."_

 _"... Sorry, I shouldn't laugh at a moment like this, but... Seriously, being stuck with you on an eternal journey?! Thank God you can't make it that long!"_

 _"Still, I can die trying!"_

...

"Grey winter sunlight is lazily licking wet roofs of Mystic Falls. A few puddles got a nice icy crust during the night, but now raindrops are restlessly gnawing through the thin frost. You know this magic rime that trees and windows have in winter-designed postcards and cheesy movies? The one that makes you wanna fall asleep and wake up in a small, cozy, snow-bound town? A town, where people munch on ginger cookies in front of a big hearth with a fluffy carpet in front of it? There is also a tall, beautiful spruce, sparkling with lights and candles, somewhere in the town's centre. And the tree's smaller copies should decorate every living-room in the town. Maybe also an impressive pile of presents under them. Some mistletoe? Probably. Several laughing Santa Clauses and red-nosed Rudolphs? Definitely.

That's what Christmas is supposed to be. And that's what it isn't in Mystic Falls. At least, not anymore. Instead of Santa Claus' happy little elves in green hats we've got Santa Freaking Klaus' angry brainwashed hybrids. I should also mention witches for fairies. And werewolves for reindeer. Plus several vampires, a few Originals and two doppelgängers that don't fit any Christmas category. Though, I guess we have our own vampire-version-Grinch now. That's all magic we get for Christmas this year.

But we are trying to make the best of it. To make this Christmas as... normal as possible. Funny. Once I thought that Christmas is the only day in the year that has to be anything but normal. This is the confusing part. Because I really don't want it to be normal. My mom used to say that Christmas is the only time when magic is real. So, you see the irony. Turns out, magic is very real and it's an unavoidable part of my everyday life now. And everyone is doing their best to make Christmas as anything-but-magic as possible, just for me. They probably hope to make it look like normal American Christmas... That's sweet. Too sweet. But I don't have a heart to tell them to drop it.

It suddenly hit me that I haven't heard the "V-word" today. Not once. Not a single mention of Klaus. Or the Originals for the matter. Or hybrids, or werewolves, or witches... Not a blood-bag in Caroline's fridge. Not a word about hunting. Bonnie even got matches - matches - to light the candles! Stefan had to help her, of course. They try to act casually, as if there is nothing strange about Caroline - Caroline the Always Gorgeous Vampire - fussing over the too high-calorie Christmas dishes and complaining about gaining ten pounds in one night. As if it is absolutely normal (sorry, but the word really starts to get on me!) to watch Alaric decorating the front door instead of sharpening his stakes. And surely there is nothing, absolutely nothing, strange about Stefan calling a Christmas-tree company, making an order for "a nice dark-green Canadian spruce". I almost shouted out "take the damn axe and just get the tree if you want it!", but then he smiled at me... and I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell him - them - the truth that no matter how hard they try, they can't conceal the reality. They can't make it normal. They make it fake.

There is Damon, of course. Do they really believe that it is normal to see him in an apron cooking pudding and roasting a fat turkey? I wonder what Stefan promised him to make Damon of all people play along. He is actually refraining from his witty vampire-related remarks. Of course, he couldn't help but say something ambiguous... Like crying to Stefan from the door "Hey! Fast-food delivery!" when Matt brought us a plastic Rudolph for the yard. A murderous look was sent his way, of course, and Damon had to add something like "Sorry, sorta confused you with a pizza-boy".

They may pretend to act normal. And I will pretend to enjoy this performance. I can look the other way when a stake peeps out from Alaric's sleeve. I can wait patiently for Bonnie to figure out how to start fire in the hearth. I can listen to Caroline's blabbering about low-fat puddings and side-dishes. I can share Stefan's concerns that he won't finish decorations in time as if it's the most frustrating thing in the world. I can pretend to not notice Damon constantly casting alerted glances out of the window.

I won't even bother Bonnie with another dream I had. Her spell kind of helped me for a few nights... But this time it was more... intense. As usual, I can't exactly remember the words, or voices, or faces. Only some feelings and emotions. It is just so freaking confusing this time! I was pissed off, but not really pissed off... More like upset or even devastated, I can't tell. However, the thing is that I was also happy, excited, thrilled. All at once. How is it possible?! I've been on a strict vervain diet for two weeks now, to make sure that no one is messing with my head while I am asleep. And Bonnie made sure to protect me from the witches' magic. So, whatever this... experience is, it's not coming from vampires or witches. For once some mess has nothing to do with Klaus or Katherine and I am actually upset about that. It is so much easier when you know your enemy. Or ally since I can't say whether these emotions-bursting-dreams are bad or good. Oh, one more thing. This time I can kind of relive a brief moment of this dream.

I am lying somewhere, watching the pale sky. It's snowing..."

...

 _SMASH._ A deep sigh of satisfaction escapes me as I close the journal and hide it among the other stuff in my table. Smashing sounds good. It sounds natural _. Normal._ I appreciate all their efforts, I really do! But I would have never told them about my true feelings about the whole play. They deserve appreciation from me, not complaints. So when a loud noise of smashing glass rings in my ears again, I can barely suppress a victorious smile. It is a sound of _reality_. _Normal_ reality. Gosh, I must be really going crazy if I rejoice at the thought of something _obviously_ dangerous happening. Because this little Fairy-Tale-Merry-Christmas is no less dangerous than our Reality-Sucks-Christmas. Its like a time bomb in colorful wrappings. And I am so glad that I don't have to break it to them. Nope, something has already done it for me. Later this evening I will give everyone a hug and express my gratitude for their good intentions. And it will be sincere. I am grateful. I should just thank fate for every one of them... More smashing. More breaking glass.

As I rush downstairs, my mind is working on the possible source of the uproar. It can be a hybrid that broke into the house. Klaus must have sent him to... to what? Look for the last stake? Yes, that is possible. Or... can it be Katherine paying them a Christmas visit? I have almost made it to the kitchen when a familiar voice stops me.

"Oh, _please,_ as if she is buying this bullshit!"

Another _smash_ follows Damon's taunt and I catch a glimpse of my fruit vase flying across the kitchen. Quietly, I get a bit closer, just enough to see Stefan standing at the opposite side of the table. A knife is buried in his shoulder, but he seems to pay no heed to the wound. His eyes are burning holes in something (or rather certain someone) I can't see from behind the corner.

"It is not about fooling anyone," Stefan objects calmly, but there is a storm raving behind his cool exterior. He is mad.

"Then what is it about, huh?! And don't you give me this hope-is-everything shit!" his brother doesn't bother to put on a mask of composure. Probably meaning that he is still madder than Stefan. The whole situation starts to really bother me. Where are the hybrids? Where is Katherine? What's going on in my kitchen? One pissed off Salvatore is a problem. Two pissed off Salvatores is a disaster.

"It's about Elena having a real Christmas! A normal Christmas!" Stefan gives up on talking with a cool head and jerks out the knife, sending it flying back at his brother. I cringe. Judging by the growl it hit the target. But it's Stefan's words that make me want to run straight into Klaus' open arms all the while crying 'Doppelgänger's here!'. These words... He means them. "Haven't you noticed, Damon, that she is missing all her late teens while fighting vampires and hybrids? While witnessing people being torn apart by monsters? She must be concerned about the dress she is going to have on her Prom, not about escaping from the Original!" He means it. With all his heart. And I hate myself for hating every single word he says. Because it's true. And I have embraced this truth the moment I learnt he's a vampire. There is no turning back. No magic solution. I am living with it because that's what I've chosen. "She must be thinking about tests and exams and colleges! And now that I want her to have normal teenage Christmas you-"

"You sugarcoat the bloody reality," Damon interrupts both my thoughts and his brother. "Aren't you a fucking genius? How about asking Klaus to dress up like Santa? Bet the costume will suit him! Just to make it look like a normal day with normal neighbors!" a nasty sound of flesh being sliced reaches my ears. It doesn't disgust me. No. It makes me laugh. Bitterly. Here am I, listening to them discussing _normal_ life while hearing the squelch of torn flesh. Absolutely _normal._ Dear Santa, I hate this word. "You want Elena to have ordinary teenage Christmas? Great! A bit too late for it, though. You should have given her a shot at an ordinary teenage _life_ for that _._ You know, like not dating someone who has Rudolph for Christmas dinner. Or makes 3D puzzles out of pretty girls. Or-"

"Don't. Don't go there, Damon, or I swear I _will_ stake you," Stefan is struggling now. I can see his fists shaking. It was low even for Damon. What is worse, I started to agree with his statements. He was practically saying my thoughts out loud. At least, some of them. But then... Damon just had to be Damon. He couldn't help but rub salt into Stefan's wounds, could he? I get it all, of course. He is being bitter, and not without a good reason. I guess I am the one to blame for this bitterness. It is always me. Or Katherine. We hurt them. Either Stefan or Damon. It doesn't matter if we stay or go away. No matter what we choose, no matter what we do, one of them is always hurt. And to be completely honest, in the end they both are.

"Sure, go on. A dead vampire is just a cherry on top of Christmas Eve. Hey, you can even drag my body to the hall and hide it under the Christmas tree!" words flow off Damon's tongue in a cheery tune. You may think that he really relishes the prospect of his brother killing him. I only shake my head, angry and helpless. He indeed can provoke Stefan. Anything to ruin his plan. Typically.

Indignation is boiling inside me. I want to come out of my hiding place and yell at him. Can't he just play along or, at the very least, not get in the way?! Why does he always have to interfere? There are decisions I make. Decisions that aren't always easy. But I mean to stand by them. I don't need Damon to brush them aside because they're hard for me. Damn, I need it to sink into the thick head of his! Right now! I wasn't putting up with this stupid _normal_ Christmas for the better part of the day so that he could in a moment destroy my friends' careful planning!

Boldness blazes up as I proudly raise my chin and determinedly head to the kitchen. Thousand words twirl in my head as I walk out of my hiding place and get closer to the arguing brothers. Thoughts mix and get muddled as I try to figure out what to say. Should I glare and yell or smile and plead? Determination is gradually slipping away as Damon's profile gets into the view. He smirks at Stefan and panic begins to creep in. My head starts to ache in the annoying dull way, an indication of its overloaded state.

Too much.

Too little.

A thread of thoughts runs up and down. I lose it, I find it.

My vision blurs, but I keep on going. Somehow the corridor turns out to be much longer. I don't mind. I need time to organize my fleeing thoughts and come up with the speech. A few seconds.

I repeat the things I planned to say, convincing myself that he will listen... He will...

Blue eyes shift and his intent gaze fixes on me. I am lost for a moment. Awed, challenged, thrilled, raged. Words escape me as I struggle to keep the glare. The world is narrowing. The light is getting dimmer. Everything is still. Everything is moving.

Too fast.

Too slow.

 _Blink._

A smirk twists his lips and I can feel the corners of my mouth tilting upward. Apprehensively, but obnoxiously. It's not a sweet shy smile that adorns my face. It's a grinning challenge itself. Am I nervous? Not sure, agitation obscures every other emotion.

"Still doubt it's a good idea!" Damon purrs playfully. He is obviously talking to Stefan, but icy eyes are still glued to mine. The younger brother hasn't noticed me yet. "Won't Lady Gilbert feel a bit... _uncomfortable_?" His mocking gaze is slowly traveling down my figure, lingering on the long skirt of my velvet dress. Feeling exposed under this shameless scrutiny - even though the collar almost riches my chin, and long sleeves and gloves conceal the skin - I quickly secure the fur mantlet around myself. Before I couldn't imagine his smirk getting even cockier. This infuriating man!

"You will be surprised, Mr. Salvatore, but I am quite a skillful horsewoman," I reply nonchalantly, but not without a subtle note of pride coloring my voice. I _will_ go.

"Elena!" Stefan gasps in surprise, but then a soft smile brightens his face. I can swear it was distorted by rage a second earlier. All in all, it was _Damon_ he was talking to.

I give Stefan a small smile as he gently kisses the back of my hand, but I am too focused on his brother to offer him a better respond. You can't get distracted with Damon around. You have to watch him carefully to be ready for his blow.

"Skillful at awfully many things, my lady, aren't you?" the elder Salvatore addresses me with an ambiguous wiggle of his eyebrows. I would blush were I not that concentrated on getting what I want. His smirking lips don't haste to leave the back of my hand. This is one of those games we play all the time. He tries to unnerve me. I try to outsmart him. That's the gist of our relationship.

"You are not so bad yourself, Mr. Salvatore," I respond politely. A whiff of inspiration catches me before I can think better of it, "...at awfully _more_ things than I am," I add in a sweet voice. His grin stiffens in a dangerous way. Why am I doing it?! Great, Elena. Always making it harder for yourself...

"My brother and I were just discussing what a skillful... _hunts-man_ you are. Not that I need any proof, of course! I _know_ you are." His eyes get a malicious glint, making me regret the last comment. "I'm merely concerned that you won't be that comfortable with another kind of prey." That impossible, arrogant, obnoxious...-! "That's why I was telling my brother here that you shouldn't join our Christmas Hunt".

Other hunters are ready to go. They pretend to be busy with loading guns and checking hounds, of course. But we all know that they are drinking in every word that leaves our mouths. It must be really entertaining to watch your masters humiliating each other in the most intricate ways possible. Damon and I have probably turned insults into the art. I know this minute that unless I convince him to let me join the hunt now they will leave. And Stefan can't have a say in this since all the hunters are Damon's men. This time I have to fight him on my own. And I would rather suffer humiliation while hunting than wait for Stefan's return at the country estate with Mother and her sisters whispering and giggling behind my back. I can't stand all my family's pointed stares and meaningful signs. Every one of them (even my several times great grandaunt Lisa that I've met only once!) seems to be eating me with their calculating eyes lately. Especially when I am with Stefan. Or even Damon, for God's sake! I don't think they even care (or know) which brother is courting me as long as he comes from the rich Salvatore family. I love my parents, and my Grandmother, and my numerous aunts and cousins... But I am so very disgusted with their attitude to me, to Stefan... As if we are nothing, but a ticket to the prosperous future. So, I am desperate to escape. I can't stay alone with my family! Mother and aunts will take me for a _walk._ Meaning there will be some embarrassing talk included, some gross advice given, etc. God, can't a woman just love a man because that's all to it?! Probably not in this lifetime.

There is no, absolutely no way I am being left here! Let Damon insult me, let his men laugh at me behind my back. God, I am ready to give him that satisfaction if he just takes me to the damned hunt!

"Oh? Then how about we have a little friendly competition?" I ask him skittishly while winding my arms round Stefan. He responds immediately with a protective hug. I suppress a relieved sigh. No, I am still too weak. I can't fight him completely alone, without any kind of support or protection. Not yet.

"Hmmm, _now_ you've got my interest, Miss Gilbert!" Damon narrows his eyes on Stefan, but a haughty smile never drops.

"Let's see who gets the deer first. The winner shines in his dazzling glory. The loser soaks in a humiliating defeat," I explain swiftly, never breaking the eye-contact. The illusion of my fearless self must be quite convincing since even Stefan stares at me wide-eyed and shocked. But I can't look away from Damon. Not until he takes the bait. I will outstare him this time. Come on, Damon! Surely your big ego can't miss a chance like this!

"Hope you are a skillful loser then," he says at last, looking somewhat conflicted. But I don't get a chance to ponder on it much as a huge wave of relief washes over me. Stefan is murmuring soothing nothings into my ear while stroking my hair, and I must responding somehow since my lips are moving. But I am not aware of my own words. Triumph is all I know as my eyes follow Damon's retreating back. He doesn't know it, but today I won. It's Christmas, I am not at the family estate and I am with Stefan. That's more I could have hoped for.

Men help me to get on a horse they hastily brought from the stables. Someone passes me a hunting gun, and I quickly confirm that I know how to pull a trigger. All in all, Farther doesn't have a son. It was me who was eagerly learning from him how to shoot and clean the gun. A few more minutes, and we are on our way to the woods. Frozen brackens and rotting leaves crunch under the hooves. I wish it snowed here more often to conceal the autumn leftovers. In stead of the impeccable whiteness there is the morose grayness with naked trees around us.

Stefan is galloping next to me on a fine dappled mare with a white mane. He gives me a sign to follow his lead, and I am happy to oblige. I don't really care if I lose the stupid competition. But if Stefan can help me to wipe Damon's overconfident smirk off his face by securing my victory... I am all in! It would be the best Christmas ever. So I rush after him as I let out a laugh full of happiness. He casts an amused smile at me before unleashing the hounds and running after them. God, I love him. And I love this moment of utter joy.

I don't know how long we've been galloping through the woods, dodging trees and jumping over mossy trumps. Two hours. Four hours? But as the skies start to get a pinkish sunset hue our hounds split into two packs taking different routes. I turn to follow the one that runs to the east. At some point my horse gets tired and slows down, but I don't try to make her go faster. All the excitement aside, I am quite exhausted myself. This hunting has been going on for hours, and I am not a _skillful huntswoman_ , as Damon put it. I can't say that I even like hunting. But I enjoy Stefan's company and this feeling of freedom. This ability to go wherever I want.

Gradually, the noise of hunting horns and barking dies, the forest tranquility finally engulfs me. Bullfinches are chirping cheerfully from the hollows, firs in evergreen gorgeous gowns are giggling with the wind. The horse is just pacing now, probably as content with this unhurried way of moving as I am. No rush. No fuss. So peaceful...

 _Snap._

The sound immediately alerts me, and I look away from the birds, taking in the surroundings. There is a small lawn amidst the firs in front of me. A movement at its far edge catches my eye, and I spin around. At first, I can't see it behind the shaggy branches and deep shadows. I get my gun ready. It's better to be ready to shoot in case there is a bear or a wolf. Another twig snaps, and I start to aim at something behind the firs, where I believe the sound has come from. Agitation creeps into me as I finally distinguish a strong lean body of a deer amidst the branches. I can barely contain my excitement. The day is getting too good to be true! An image of flabbergasted, and very much defeated, Damon comes to my mind and a pleased grin mars my lips. This will be a nice lesson to his overblown ego and arrogance. The trigger is almost pulled when the deer comes out of the shadows...

I stand still.

It is... beautiful. The gun lies forgotten on my lap. The deer's every step is full of elegance. I watch the animal, mesmerized by its gracefulness. Long branchy antlers crown its proud head, black eyes give me an almost reproachful, though still gentle, look of a stern but loving parent. Guilt and shame are suffocating me now. I dismount the mare, but dare not to take a step closer as if afraid to lose the deer's trust. The animal, however, just watches me with its dark calm eyes. It's not afraid of me. And I... cherish this trust. It feels... wonderful. _Magic_. How could I even raise my gun at this magnificent creature..? It is a true king of the forest...

"You _are_ a smart hunter."

A low chuckle next to my ear gives me a start. No. The magic of the moment is crumbling to pieces as I spin around to come face to face with Damon. This intolerable smirk is mercilessly killing all the wonder and joy I felt a second earlier. His bloody bay is standing a few feet away, lazily stamping the dead grass. I close my eyes. Why can't it be perfect? Just this one time...

"Looks like you do know how to hunt," the elder Salvatore continues, his eyes fixed on the deer, so he can't see the devastation that's written all over my face. I can feel his excitement. Excitement he has stolen from me. "Keep away from loud morons with dogs, and you'll surely stumble upon something worthy." The hunting gun is hanging over his shoulder, but he doesn't rush to shoot. Maybe the deer can still run away... I frantically try to come up with a plan how to shoo the animal without Damon realizing it. He can't know. Or I'll be never joining these hunts again. Should I make my horse run towards the deer? No, Damon is too close, he'll notice my movement. I racked my brains, but couldn't find a solution! Any idea appears impossible with somebody as astute as the elder Salvatore next to me. What if I distract him long enough for the deer to get bored just standing here..? Sounds stupid, but I've run out of any plausible plans...

Before I can act, Damon gets his gun ready. My blood freezes. No! No, no, no! I am at the point of jumping at him, but suddenly these blue eyes fix on me. Barely breathing, I am doing my best to keep a straight face. We stand still for a moment, every part of my body tense with apprehension. His face is unreadable, icy eyes hard and slightly narrowed as if searching for something in my blank stare. And then a crooked smile takes place on this pretty... _pretty_ infuriating face of his. "On the count of three, my lady?"

I blink. What? I must have voiced it out loud, because a small chuckle escapes him.

"Oh, _please._ Contrary to what you might think, Miss Gilbert,I am a _perfect_ gentleman." Damon arches a brow then as if daring me to argue, but I keep quiet. What game is he playing now? Probably encouraged by me being... not argumentative, the elder Salvatore elaborates, his voice mockingly exhausted. As if explaining something to me is the most emaciating work in the world. Have I ever mentioned how annoying he is? "You are here. I am here. So... You, me... and a deer." His voice sounds so... _suggestive._ You may get an impression that he's talking about _anything_ but hunting. Typically. "How about this: we take guns, we aim and on the count of three we both shoot. Whoever hits the deer wins. It's as easy as that!"

My mask of nonchalance slips away as I give him an incredulous (and a very doubtful) look. Damon winks at me playfully. "No cheating, that's a promise! Unless.." his smile turns into a naughty grin, "...unless you're a skillful cheater, too."

A plan is quickly forming in my mind. I respond with a small smile of my own. It should be more daunting, more challenging. But I am too preoccupied with my new idea to pay attention. Shrugging, I quickly get the gun. "Whatever. Take your aim. I count."

"As you wish," Damon answers simply, but I can feel his eyes burning holes in me. Does he have suspicions? Have I somehow given myself away?... No, no, I'm just being paranoid. It's another game of his. It is _Damon._ He's simply trying to unnerve me, hoping that I'll miss then. Well, no need to bother. I will.

I adjust the gun on my slender shoulder and aim. Swiftly, so that Damon won't notice, I direct the barrel at a spot just above the deer's head. The shot should frighten it enough. I just hope it _will_ run away, because the animal so far has been awfully trusting and brave. Any _normal_ creature wouldn't just stand watching humans in the woods! Please, just run... You will have an advantage of surprise, Damon should be perplexed for a second or two... Just, please, _run!_ I will shoot right after I say one. Then the story is that my finger accidentally twitched... I doubt that Damon will buy it. Quite the opposite, actually. I am sure that he'll never let me live it down. But on the positive side, he will probably invite me to the hunting next time. For the fun's sake he will. It's an opportunity to mess with "little clumsy Miss Gilbert" Damon won't miss.

"Ready?" My voice is cool, but my arms are trembling a little, and my legs are jelly. Please, just run...

"Always!" comes his cheery reply. I take a deep breath, frosty air burning my lungs...

 _Bang._

The report is still ringing in my ears when I fall to my knees. Water is slowly soaking through the fabric of my dress, but I don't feel the cold. And I don't care. The gun is lying in front of me, completely forgotten. Completely useless. The wind is howling in the trees, bringing the echo of barks and shouts from the approaching hunters. I pay them no attention. Somebody is pulling me into warm gentle arms, men are fussing around... But all I see is a cold body at the far edge of the lawn. Dead eyes are still gazing at me with the same trust. A thin stream of blood is lazily running down the muzzle. I failed... And then reality is gradually taking me back.

There is Stefan holding me in his arms and saying how proud he is. There are hunters giving me admiring looks. There is Mr. Salvatore nodding approvingly at me.

But I am searching for _him._ I want to look _him_ in the eye and just... what? No idea. But I need it.

 _He_ is there, just behind Stefan and me, talking and laughing in this casual way of his. As if nothing has happened. As if _he_ hasn't just killedthe most magnificent, the most trusting creature. It was hunting, I know it. The whole point of this activity is killing, I do understand! But how could _he_ just shoot at anyone who was staring straight into his eyes?! Who wasn't even trying to run?

I glare at _him_. I dare _him_ to look at me. I want _him_ to suffocate in my fury. I...-

He turns, his burning eyes immediately find mine. No taunt. No remorse. He is just watching me. Studying me. And I know this instant that he _knew._ He saw right through my little game. I was a fool to believe I can outplay him. He won. _Again._

"Well, well, well, son! Who would have thought that young Lady Gilbert is such a talented hunter?"

Mr. Salvatore's ringing voice attracts our attention, causing us to break the eye contact. The man approaches Damon and claps him good-naturedly on the shoulder. Amusement is evident in the older Salvatore's eyes. The interaction has me confused...

Damon skillfully sets his features into something resembling an embarrassed expression. I can't help gawking at him. What game is he playing now? Because I'm really done with him this time. "Ugh, _Father_... Is it really necessary to shove it into my face?" Had I not known Damon, I would say he sounded... _ashamed._ One glimpse at his glinting eyes has distorted the illusion, of course. But his father is buying the whole play. What's going on for God's sake?!

"Teaches you a good lesson, son. Never underestimate your opponent. Am I right, Miss Gilbert?" the older man addresses me jovially, clearly enjoying Damon's "discomfort".

Huh?

I manage a meek nod, too confused to formulate a decent sentence. Did Damon just...? No way. I must have misunderstood the conversation... All this respect, all these admiring looks the hunters were giving me make sense now... But... Impossible. Ridiculous even.

"Ahhh!" Damon's arms shoot up in surrender. "I'd better go and _soak in my humiliating defeat_ now!" he quotes my words from earlier today and spares me a quick glance. A little spark of mischief is dancing there as he dramatically turns his back on me and walks away.

... No. He can't just escape me like that. I need to talk him! No, I need to give him a piece of mind! He won't get away that easily! One moment I'm safe in Stefan's arms, next moment I'm running...

"Damon!"

Fury. Irritation. Puzzlement. Regret. Indignation. Wonder.

There is too much in my call.

There is too little.

He halts.

I get closer.

He turns.

And we are face to face. Again. Trying to outstare each other in a silent battle of wills.

 _Blink._

"You killed it!" I burst out at last, poking his chest with all the force I can afford.

"Huh?" For a moment, I think I can see real confusion brewing in Damon's eyes. But I quickly shake my head to whisk it off. Damn, he is one hell of an actor! "Umm, I killed _what_?"

"Drop it, I'm in no mood for your games!" I yell, infuriated and annoyed beyond compare. Either he explains to me why he's done that or, I swear, I am tearing down this leather jacket of his!

"Okay, okay, _I killed it!_ Just, cool off for a sec," Damon hastes to agree, but I feel no satisfaction. He has just repeated my words, without even meaning them! Is he going to _deny_ it? And I can't just _cool off!_ What the hell?! How dare he...- "Now. What did I kill this time?"

"The deer!" I didn't plan to encourage his 'I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about' act, but the word was out before I could restrain myself. I was just... So. Pissed. Off.

"The _what_?"

"The _deer?_ "

The second incredulous voice makes me aware of another presence in the kitchen, and I cast a glance over the shoulder to meet Stefan's utterly perplexed look. I've almost forgotten about him. I should have explained it to him before running off like this... He must be so lost, having no clue of what's happened. And me yelling with no reason at Damon, accusing him of...

Abruptly, I stop a train of thoughts that's rushing through my head. My fingers fidget with the rim of my jeans' pockets as I'm racking my brains, trying to remember _what_ it is I am accusing Damon of. Now it's my turn to frown in confusion.

"Whoa, guess you've got the wrong Salvatore here!" Damon flashes her an amused smile. "You know, deer are Stefan's _speciality_."

"Shut up," the younger brother hisses at him while watching me carefully. I shut my eyes and slowly inhale warm air, saturated with a sweet aroma of ginger bread. No frost. No rotten leaves beneath my feet. No mud. No forest. No hunting. Just my kitchen. Arguing vampire brothers. And Christmas. Everything is back to _normal..._

My eyes immediately flutter open. What the hell has happened? I quickly pinch my arm, and a small barely painful sensation scares me more than a knife to the stomach. This is reality. I am pretty sure about this. There are memories, vivid memories. And feelings, and fears, and... _Everything!_ But then... what was _that?_ There were memories, too. I could feel the cold, could feel the pain... I swear I am still sore after several hours on horseback... But there was _no_ horseback and no hunting! There _couldn't_ be ! Could there...? No, no, no! I was here, in my Gilberts' house in Mystic Falls, coming up to Damon to tell him to let us have this goddamn _normal_ fake Christmas. Wherever and _whenever_ that other something was, it's not here and not now. Then how...

"See? Your stupid plan isn't working!" Damon announces in a too happy smug voice. There is a big 'I told you so!' written across his smirking face.

"And you feel so smart, don't you? Having destroyed her favorite holiday?" Stefan snarls, steaming in impotent anger.

"Oh, please, don't make Grinch out of me," the elder brother replies with an eye-roll, his tone dripping annoyance. "I am not _destroying_ anything, but a stupid _and_ dangerous illusion of yours. Keep it up, and there will be dear Santa Klaus in our hearth before you can say 'pudding'!"

"There won't if we are on the alert!"

"On the alert, right!" Damon snickers nastily. "Like serving our special vervain punch!"

"What do you want from me? To say that life sucks? That we are screwed? Fine. Life sucks and we are screwed. Let's sit down and wait for Klaus to end our misery!" Stefan bursts out, his patience finally out of fuel. "No way we can _enjoy_ just one normal Christmas."

"Enjoy? Normal?" the elder Salvatore breaks off with a scornful laugh. "What is normal? _This?_ No one is enjoying this facade, least of all Elena! You wanna give her a fucking fairy tale? Then make a fucking _dream_ for her!"

My eyebrows twitch in annoyance. I need to figure out what the hell has happened to me, no time to lecture one-hundred-seventy-years-old children. Their loud voices ring in my aching head. Reality... No, realities must have mixed, and I've got into the middle...

"Yes, Damon. It's so very like you. Pick the easier way out and spit upon others."

But it was also Christmas there, meaning that it couldn't be just a random episode of someone's life...

"Oh, let's do it Stefan-way! Come up with the dumbest plan possible and go all self-righteous when it goes south!"

No, not someone's. It was my life. In a way. I cared... Damn, I still care about all those people! Okay... I'm on vervain, there's a ton of spells on me. It's very unlikely that anybody's messing with my head. Is it more like a... memory? No, that place didn't even look like America. I am pretty sure it wasn't even English we spoke. As to the century... Definitely not my epoch. Sometime earlier. So, was it some other doppelgänger's experience? Dammit! I need to talk to Bonnie! Something is seriously wrong with me. First those dreams, now _this_...

 _Smash_.

And can't they just stop ruining my kitchen?!

"Enough!" I snap at the brothers, causing them both to stop abruptly, Damon's hand still raised, ready to throw a fork. They blink at me, as if suddenly remembering that _Elena_ is here and _she_ is pissed off. Guilt clouds Stefan's features, his face getting sad. I bit my lip. His guilt is contagious. "Really, guys..." I soften my voice and come up to him, my hands locked behind his neck. "Do you really need to fight today? Can't you just... _pretend_ to agree on everything for one day?" Damon's snort reaches my ears, but I pointedly ignore it. "I really, _really_ want to enjoy this Christmas, Stefan. Meaning, I need the more level-headed brother to stop wracking my kitchen and help Matt with reindeer on the roof," I add mischievously, giving him a sweet peck.

"Just don't drain them!" Damon just can't refrain from a stinging remark. No surprise. Naturally, Stefan stares daggers at his brothers... or rather stakes. There will be utensils and glasses flying any minute now. Not again... Before my kitchen is completely destroyed, I haste to distract Stefan by a more persistent kiss to which he eagerly responds.

"Should we place Rudolph on the roof, too?" he asks with a playful concern as our lips are pulling apart. I can't help a bittersweet smile. The facade is still on then. Not that it matters... Now I have more serious issues at hand.

"How about the porch? It looks a bit empty," I reply cheerfully, hoping that my voice sounds natural. He leaves with another smile. A smile that isn't directed only at me. I sigh. It was the easy part. Now comes the difficult one.

I can't wait to go and find Bonnie, but... something about my _experience_ is connected to Damon. Actually, it's all about our interaction. And I think I see some parallel here... No, now that sounds crazy. I should just go and look for Bonnie. The sooner this reality-mess is taken care of the better. I turn to go.

"Wow. You're an _awfully_ skillful liar."

I am almost at the threshold when these casually said words echo in my ears and I freeze to the spot.


	2. Ring Me In

Chapter II

 **Ring Me In**

 _You're an awfully skillful liar._

These amused words freeze me on spot. Could he... Could he have the same experience?! Does he remember? I spin around, shock plastered all over my face. Damon keeps this infuriatingly unruffled expression I can't read.

"What... what have you said?" I utter, my voice barely a whisper.

"Please, not with me," he shakes his finger disapprovingly. "Stefan's Great NormalChristmas sucks and you know it."

So, he has no clue... But then again, another parallel. It's getting weirder. And creepy... Maybe I should forget about the whole thing and refer to it as some universe's mistake. "Stefan is trying to make real Christmas out of the mess that's our life. Who knows? It can very well be the last Christmas for some of us," I speak softly, but I am adamant to defend Stefan's reasons.

"My, my! What a smooth lie! I'm impressed!" Damon exclaims, sarcasm dribbling from his voice. And then he tilts his eyebrows downwards a smidgen. "Impressed, not fooled, Elena." He is searching my face as I keep silence, probably seeing through me. "Tell me, does it feel _real_? Do you want your last Christmas to be like _this_ , fake and _un_ real? With all your friends fussing around you with plastic smiles, asking about Santa Claus, but actually wondering about Santa Klaus?!"

"I want them to believe that I'm okay," I answer tersely. "Maybe I want them to remember that this fun-loving and careless Elena they love still exists. The Elena, who does care about cheap Christmas decorations and cheesy post-cards, who gets upset about the wrong color of table-cloths and the absence of snow. I am not just a freaking doppelgänger every supernatural creature wants to either kill or use. They need to see my other, my _better_ self. Not this current Elena who's just trying to survive, but the one that's actually living!"

"Dammit, you _are_ fun-loving and careless!" Damon's voice is raised and agitated, frustration evident in his high notes. "Everybody loves you without this fucking facade! ... They love you any way." All pretense of indifference is shed as he makes a step towards me. His vivid look deepens, getting this wild glint that I came to apprehend. I know what's coming next. And I dread it. I am not ready to deal with it now. Not sure if I ever will. "Hey." I refuse to look at him. I can't. Especially now that he let tenderness soften his voice. "You're strong enough to deal with our reality. They just forget it from time to time... being the morons they are," he adds the last part with an ostentatious annoyance, but I can actually feel him grinning. A small traitorous smile pulls at my own lips. I know he is right. Our reality - at least _this_ one - is not something unmanageable. For all its losses and suffers I get something invaluable. Something I would have never obtained without all those endurances. I can't exactly name _it_ , but it makes our life... fulfilled? Cherished? I am searching for a right word, because I hate to call it _exciting._ There is nothing exciting about dying, or losing your loved ones, or being tortured. But whatever this _something_ is, it makes my life _real._ It teaches me to appreciate all these little nothings most people take for granted. It reveals our true faces, all our virtues. All our demons. And with that comes understanding. _Real_ understanding. Real friendship. Real love. Feelings, founded not on a simple attraction to a society mask, but on very real deed and conduct. Gradually, we learn to love these ugly true-faces of ours. Because only then can we say that we truly know the person. Because when we lose someone we care about, we don't give a damn about his demons. Actually, we miss them...

A slim finger, that probably holds more strength than my whole body, traces an invisible line from my ear to the chin, gently, but insistently turning my face towards his. "I don't," Damon murmurs, his lips grazing my temple. It takes me a second to remember what's he referring to. I suck in a sharp breath before dragging my gaze to the blue eyes.

 _Blink._

Almost smoldering, I am desperately searching for words. What can I say? What _should_ I say? But more importantly, what is it that I want to say? "Truth is what you want, Lena," as if reading my mind, he answers in whisper. Suddenly, I am aware of my hands being gently stroked by his calloused ones.

"How do you know what I want and what I need?" I take a tiny step back, just to put some distance between us. His hands are still holding mine, though, tugging. As if pleading. Or demanding. Maybe both. You can never tell with Damon.

"You need what you want, that's as simple as that," he fires an immediate reply. Like this is the most obvious thing in the world. I don't want to go downstairs. I don't want to plaster this polite mask for strangers. I don't want... God, I hate this ball! But... My family. It is desperation eating them alive thar they are being so calculating. So... seemingly indifferent to my well-being. However, my Father has never, ever, even considered an arranged marriage. Me meeting Stefan was the most fortunate accident for my family, of course they were desperately clinging to the chance of me becoming Lady Salvatore. It's thanks to their love that I wasn't married off to some old landlord at the age of fourteen like most other girls. I own my family that much. I can endure another stupid ball, another Christmas night of humiliation and hypocrisy... God... You know what a torture these annual balls are. Every year is the same. At least, this time I had some fun during hunting. So far it is the best Christmas I've had... Moreover, Mr. Salvatore will be attending. And I promised Stefan to meet him _officially_. Well, and events like this are important to him. He will help me through this goddamned ball, he will...

What I need is what I want. It is easy, when you're like Damon. When you don't have to worry that by taking the "what-I-want" road you're shutting down so many roads for others.

"It may be true, Damon," I start softly, but my voice gets firm when I see another objection ready on his lips. "But not for me."

Something shifts in his features. "Yes, it is. This ball is not your liability. And it's not your life. You can go wherever you want... _I_ can take you wherever you want," he whispers ardently, studying me closely, counting my breaths... Waiting. At first I am only shaking my head, wishing his words to leave my mind. But they are swarming inside like vicious crows, daring me. Tempting me to spread my wings and join them. I can't remember the moment, but at some point I became still, my head hanging slightly, my eyes tightly shut. Contemplating. Struggling...

Seconds fleet, followed by heavy minutes. Damon is still waiting for me to say something. His hands are slightly trembling as if fighting some internal battle. My eyes flutter open. For several moments, Damon's face is open to the world. Hurt is being covered by a wave of anger, hope and confusion are swirling in a maelstrom of frustration. Love and hate are lost in a flashing dance, merging until it's impossible to tell one from another. I cling to this silly hope that he'll let it go... That he will just accept my decision, my _choice_ , and go on... But somewhere in the far corner of my consciousness I hear this little inner voice of mine, whispering _the truth._ The truth I refuse to admit... the truth I covet... Damon takes my face into his hands once again, forcing our eyes to meet. So many emotions are blooming there.

 _Don't say anything..._

 _Please, say it._

I don't know any more...

The door bursts open behind me as someone enters the parlor, loud and hurried steps an indicator of worry. This instant a shadow clouds Damon's face, every emotion I witnessed is dissolved into the cold mist of indifference. He watches somebody rummaging about the room, his hands sliding down, away from me. As if burnt, I take a step back, scared of my own thoughts. Have I been actually _contemplating_ leaving with _him_ just a second ago? _Him,_ who has showed his true colors during our hunt today? _Him,_ who has never missed a chance to humiliate his sweet brother? _Him,_ whose only entertainment so far has been insulting me? _Him,_ a perfect hypocrite and actor? Should I even enumerate all those times he gave me a reason to despise him?! Without sparing _him_ a glance, I spin around to look at the newcomer. My heart misses a beat the moment I see Stefan, but I immediately calm down, realizing that he hasn't even noticed us... No, not _us. Me_ , he hasn't noticed either Damon or me. He is too preoccupied with... ransacking every drawer? What's...-

"Searching for something, brother?"

Stefan straightens up sharply, evidently caught off guard by Damon. But surprise is quickly replaced by puzzlement as his eyes shift uneasily between his sibling and me. I blink in confusion. And blink again before finally registering _his_ hand comfortably and nonchalantly resting on my thigh. Somehow he has got closer to me while I was distracted. Close enough to make it... inappropriate. Gritting my teeth, I think that I hate _him_ this moment. I want to slap him, to yell at him. I want him to go to _hell!_ Instead, I restrain myself. No need to make a scene out of _nothing._ And Stefan knows his brother, he knows Damon's games even better than me. It's just a... surprise. A really nasty and mean surprise.

Carefully stepping away from the elder Salvatore, so that no other part of him can _accidentally_ touch me, I flicker a contemptuous glance at him. Damon responds with a chilly smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. The worst part is still to come.

"Where is it?" having to somewhat compose himself now that resentment is painting my face, Stefan assaults Damon in a low voice, his fists clenched.

" _What_ is where, little brother?" he counters Stefan's question with his taunting one, blue eyes flickering maliciously.

" _It!_ Stop playing around!" the younger Salvatore is barely restraining himself from leaping at the elder brother. Damon's snicker doesn't help as he makes his voice deliberately thoughtful.

"It... It... Hmm, I wonder if I've seen _it_... Ahh, yes! I think I know where _it_ is. Oh, wait. It isn't _the_ _it,_ just _a common_ it. Sorry!" He is sounding anything but apologetic. God, I thought I couldn't hate him more. I was wrong.

"I know you have it!" All the gentleness is gone from Stefan's face. Instead, there is fury and... fear. It hurts to see him so... unhinged, so... injured by his brother.

"I have many _its_. You should be a little more specific," Damon goes on with unruffled cruel amusement. I bet he is taking great pleasure in Stefan's torture. And my distress. Maybe my misery is even more satisfying than his brother's. "Name it!" he orders suddenly, blue eyes widen wildly.

"Just tell me where it is..." Stefan's voice is losing the will to fight, almost begging _him._

 _"Name it!"_

"I-I...-"

"Go to hell, Damon!" I can't take it anymore. Can't hold all this awful feeling - this hate - inside me. And I can't watch _him_ breaking Stefan. Whatever he has, it's not worth it. I come up to Stefan and gently turn him away, so that he can't see the triumph glowing on his sibling's face. "It doesn't matter, Stefan. Listen to me, _it_ doesn't matter! Everything will be fine. We will be fine." His breathing becomes normal, familiar soft features slowly replace those creases of anguish. "I love you," I whisper tenderly, but loud enough for _him_ to hear. A spark of exultation flares up in me upon a shadow overcasting Damon's triumphant smirk. I won't drop my glare. Not until he goes away.

He stares back, blue eyes narrowing and gleeful smirk sliding from his face. Mere seconds must have passed, but it feels like eternity when suddenly Damon curses and thrusts his hand into the pocket. "There. Merry Christmas." Along with his caustic words something small flies across the room, landing right under my feet. It's glittering like something gold... My eyes widen. I try to form a coherent sentence, but words escape me. No way...

Stefan comes first to his senses. Feverishly, as if _it_ is going to disappear any moment, he falls to his knees and snatch the object. I dumbly watch him taking my cold hand into his, pressing my wrist to his burning lips... and then slipping _it_ on my finger. Blinking is all I can do. It is so... surreal. How can it all happen so fast? One moment I am fuming from impotent anger. Next moment I am melting from endearment. It can't be happening... Or can it?

"Elena," my name on Stefan's lips causes me to refocus on the reality. "I was hoping for a better moment today... and for other circumstances... But you are right. It doesn't matter. Because I love you, too. And I always will. And... This is my mother's wedding ring. She wanted... She would have liked to...- Would you like to marry me?" the proposal comes abruptly, but decisively.

I blink again. So, it's really happening. It's for real. Stefan wants to marry me. A girl he helped on the bridge two years ago. A girl, who originates from a family that's several classes behind his in the social ranking. A girl, who always feels so miserable in the high society. A girl, who simply fell in love with him. A girl, who started to hate his brother more than love him.

I wish I could feel happiness. God knows, I love Stefan more than anything or anyone in this world. There is more than one time I dreamt about this moment. My fantasy was wild. I imagined hundreds of places and thousands of circumstances for this one moment. But, of course, life is bigger. Life is unpredictable with its twists. I am naïve, but I do realize that even if my imagination creates millions of different scenarios of Stefan's proposal, life will still take some other course. I was ready for this. What I was _not_ ready for is my feelings. I thought - I _knew -_ that my reaction would always be the same. Happiness. Utter, sheer happiness at the prospect of a long life together with Stefan. I believe there had been a faint flash of happiness for a second... before it was extinguished for good by a sight of _him_.

And then it was only anger. Fury. Rage. Anger for ruining this moment. The moment that must have been perfect _._ Fury for hurting me. Rage for everything he has ever done to make me hate him. For teaching me to hate so much and so vehemently.

His eyes are digging into me. He knows how I feel. Because that's what he has been planning from the very beginning. Well, I won't make this victory sweet for him. It will be excruciating. Hurting.

Raising my chin proudly, I boldly meet his alert stare.

"I would! Yes, I would!" I cry out fiercely, my raging eyes never leaving Damon's. Two years ago I would have cringed at the venom in my voice. But now I can't care less. I am dimly aware of Stefan's bewildered face that is quickly being overwhelmed by true joy and happiness. I crack a small smile at him, hoping that it's convincing enough. For a moment I try to ignite this simple gladness that's lighting Stefan's features. I feverishly wrap my arms around him, all the while staring at the icy eyes. "That's what I _want_ more than anything!" I asseverate firmly. As Damon winces I feel something resembling satisfaction gurgling inside of me. Maybe... the moment is not lost yet..? Maybe I will still remember it as the happiest moment of my life? Hope starts to flutter even so timidly. I slightly raise my hand behind Stefan's head as if to admire the ring. But I hardly pay any attention to the golden glitter around my finger. Instead, my eyes are skinning Damon, who is watching us with an expression too strained for a complete detachment. He is less indifferent to the happenings than his exterior gives away. An idea crosses my mind... Drawing a hasty breath, I press my lips to Stefan's cheek, my hand tenderly stroking his hair. He than starts to kiss me, slowly, pouring all his love into this simple and chaste action, the thought of his brother probably completely evading his mind. What cannot be said about me. Actually, quite the opposite... As I respond with vigour to Stefan, Damon's eyes twinkle. Encouraged, I deepen the kiss. And I watch _him_ , intensely. He stares back, his face hardening... And then something snaps. Something breaks in him, for Damon shuts his eyes tightly and spins around. Storming away from the room, his posture rigid. I finally break the kiss then, smiling, chuckling. This exhilaration is overwhelming. This joy upon seeing hurt on _his_ face. This satisfaction when I saw _him_ admitting the defeat. It was so...!

A smile suddenly freezes on my face as a sudden realization strikes me. It's slowly dawning upon me that though it was Stefan I was talking to, though it was Stefan I was kissing and hugging, my every word, every gesture was meant to hurt Damon... It wasn't the prospect of marring the man I love that initiated the kiss or triggered me to accept the purpose. No... It was all about being vicious and spiteful. What I feel is not happiness. It's gloating delight that makes me smile. And just like this I am washed away by another surge of anger. Or sadness. Or satisfaction.

I can't tell the difference... All I know is that tears are running down my face, everything becoming blurry. And Stefan... he has no clue. He believes that I am crying out of happiness. No... He must be thinking that he has made me the happiest girl in the world... God, I am disgusting. How can Stefan love me? How can anyone love me after this?! And he is still laughing in this light-hearted ways of his, kissing my salty cheeks, whispering the sweetest things. If only you knew, my dear Stefan, to whom you've given your heart... You have no idea what I'm capable of. God... God, how could you make this world so unfair to him?! To him, the most amiable person I've ever known?! For the beginning, you've gratuitously gave Stefan the elder brother to antagonize him and make his life miserable. Then you took away his mother. And now you're throwing me into his life... Because now I can't just disappear from his life. He has given his everything into this love. While I couldn't even...

I can't stand his kindness, his love.

Need to get away from him... Away... I recoil from him, taking a step back, then another... and another...

Until my back meets the kitchen wall. Too many emotions. Too many thoughts... I am furiously rubbing at my eyes, hoping to stop a stream of tears. Why won't they stop? I don't want to cry, I am tired of crying...

A cold hand tenderly covers mine, stopping it from rubbing my face sore. The touch gives me a shiver and I lean into the caring hand, craving the calmness that comes with it. A thumb wipes the tears away, brushing the corner of my mouth and causing it to tilt upward.

"Now, that's what I call a pretty face!"

This amused tone. It makes a breath catch in my throat. The first instinct is to shrink back from _him_ , probably shout at him, too. Maybe to finally slap him. But I do nothing of the like. I inwardly frown at myself. Why don't I? I should!... Right...?

"Jeez, Elena. You are such a mess," _he_ sounds exasperated, but... in a way I know to mean that he is not. In a good-natured way. A way I like...

My eyes crack open. Damon is staring back at me, a small grin playing on his lips. "Oh, you're welcome to use my other shoulder if you wanna cry some more." I bit my lip, suppressing a smile. Typical Damon. He doesn't need fake Christmas to make me feel... Good.

Stop. Fake Christmas? Wasn't it a Christmas ball...

A moan escapes me and I tiredly bury my face in Damon's shoulder. Leather jacket. Kitchen tiles. Jeans. I am... back? Or is it the other way around? Surprisingly, I don't even freak out. This calmness should be alarming, though. I've got some serious problem, and I've got no idea how to deal with it. Bonnie. I should... No. Suddenly, I become very aware of being in Damon's arms. There is nothing strange or uncomfortable about it... for me.

It's another story for Bonnie. Or Caroline for this matter. Or Stefan... Dammit, for everyone! So, how am I supposed to tell her about my Damon-related visions (or whatever the hell they are)? Even worse if she gets inside my head and sees it in every detail. What if Bonnie can see even more? The... _sequel_? I am not sure if I want to know the end of that other life of mine. Anyway, these episodes from a different reality would only convince Bonnie in Damon's bad influence. And I... I need him. There's no way I can survive without him by my side. All these _visions..._ Now that I look from aside at my other self, I wonder... was it a right choice? To make everyone believe that I am someone I am not? The end (well, I mean the end of my last vision) left Stefan fooled, Damon hurt and me disappointed.

"Damon," my throat is sore after crying, but I manage to whisper, my face still buried in his shoulder.

"Mmm?" he encourages me to continue by stroking my head. I take a deep breath. The subject I am about to bring up isn't easy to discuss... Especially with him.

"I-I need you to be serious just for this one talk... And frank," I add after a short pause. He snorts, probably rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, Elena? You sure we are talking about me here? Because I am all for frankness and honesty," I know from his intonation that Damon is meaningfully quirking a brow now. I ignore it. "And I am always _dead_ serious." I almost regret the decision... He chuckles upon feeling my shoulders getting rigid. "Okay, okay. You know I can't help it. But I will try. For you," he adds the last part in a whisper.

I keep silent for a moment, before starting the conversation I dread and need. But, most importantly, _he_ needs. I don't want this Christmas to end the way it did in the other reality. With everyone miserable... It's probably unavoidable, but I should try, at least, to make him understand, see my reasons before he does something stupid. "Back then... in 1864..." His whole body tenses. It always does when we speak about _those_ times. But it's his own kind of _other reality._ And I have to use this parallel to explain. I hesitate, giving him a chance to stop me, to put an end to the conversation. Because if he does refuse to listen to me, I won't press him. We will just return to this _normal_ Christmas, probably on unspeaking terms, since he'll be still pissed off about me keeping the facade and I'll be too upset to try anything. A part of me hopes that Damon won't hear a word about 1864 from me. Because the more I wait, the less I want to talk. But he keeps quite. Drawing another shaky breath, I continue. "If you had to choose between Stefan and Katherine..." Next words get stuck in my throat, and I swallow hard. I just can't force the question out... Damon is going to snap any moment now... It was a terrible idea in the first idea...

"Katherine," Damon's even, if not a bit sour, voice gives me a start. Bewildered, but not in an unpleasant way, I carefully tilt my head to peek at him. He doesn't look mad or upset with me. Just pensive. Probably reviving some bitter moments of the past. His answer came immediately, without a note of doubt. I thought it would that. So, my task is going to be as difficult as I have anticipated...

"No... I think you are wrong," I mutter, shifting uneasily in Damon's arms as he casts an incredulous look at me. But then he gives an unamused chuckle and shakes his head, regret plastered all over his face.

"As much as I hate to admit, it's the truth." Another bitter chortle. "I'll skip the part where I describe a naïve love-sick version of young me and get to the point: I would have done _anything_ for the bitch. It's that simple."

I close my eyes, a bitter smile grazing my own lips. He doesn't see it... Not yet. "You were in love with Katherine. So was Stefan. You knew it. Stefan did not. Correct?"

"Well, now that you put it this way, it does sound fucked up." Damon cringes, but manages to flash a crooked smile. "Ummm, I believe that I missed the part where you explained the point of this... conversation."

"I am getting to it," I hastily reassure him. Breath in. Breath out. Here comes _this_ part. "So, you both were madly in love with her. The only difference is that Stefan had no clue about you..."

"Screwing her too. Yup," he chimes in as I fail to find the proper words. Another annoyed sigh escapes me, but I keep on convincing myself that humor is a good sign. Maybe he will take it all better.

"Yeah... So, why not to tell him the truth?" the question flows off my tongue before I can think of a better way to ask it. Well, it's too late now... "I mean, it's not like Katherine compelled you to keep it away from him."

A frown creases his face. "No, but... Why would I? It didn't matter to me if she slept with my brother...-"

"But it did to Stefan," I interrupt him abruptly, trying to keep pity out of my voice. Damon won't appreciate it. And I need him to be as composed as possible. "You knew what this knowledge would do to him. And you couldn't lose him."

"Of course I didn't want to lose Stefan." Exasperation starts to seep out of his tone, meaning I am out of time. "We were like 'my brother is my best friend' back then. No reason to make him miserable."

"But you would have had to lose him eventually," I conclude darkly. His quietness is torture, and I am too scared to risk a glance at him. Too late to stop now. I have to go to the very end. "You say it's Katherine. Then why didn't you just tell him the truth... okay, tell him what you believed to be true? That you loved Katherine and Katherine didn't really love him as much as she loved you, etc... If you were convinced that it's you she _really_ loved, then why not? Surely she could forgive you for telling Stefan. Actually, you didn't even need to _tell_ him. You could just _accidentally_ let him know," I slow down, my speech leaving me breathless and agitated. He hasn't uttered a word since I started to doubt his reasons. And I don't know if it's for the better... or the worse. "Tell me, Damon. If it was all about Katherine... Why did you hide the truth from Stefan?"

My heart is drumming in my ears. Waiting... He is still holding me, though. Maybe, just maybe Damon can nod in agreement and give up on making Christmas real again. He was withholding the truth from Stefan, I am doing the same... for the same reasons. It is possible that he understands...

All the hope I was cradling is crushed by his derisively flat voice. "I know what you're doing, Elena." Suddenly, I am forced to look into the smoldering eyes as he drags me away from his shoulder, hands gripping my forearms. "Do you think that this _normal_ Christmas is about you?" The question comes out like a mockery, though its sadness reeling inside the blue eyes. Upon noticing my confused expression, he heaves a sigh and elaborates, probably not expecting me to answer anyway. "Elena, Elena... You do realize that it was Stefan who came up with this dumb Christmas-is-normal plan? Not Caroline. Not Bonnie." I give a curt nod, prompting him to continue. Damon arches a brow then as if that statement explains everything. I stare back at him, my own eyebrow raised questioningly. Another sigh. "It is all about proving that Stefan can be... how did he put it? Oh, right! _A normal boyfriend._ You know, the one who has no fangs, who doesn't hunt Santa's reindeer and who can act _normally_ on Christmas. Like decorating the roof. ...And making paper-toys for the Christmas-tree..."

The last remark strikes a chord in me, nasty suspicion sprawling its tentacles over my mind. Paper-toys. Not a very common thing to do on Christmas nowadays. For someone who has been skipping _normal_ Christmas for several decades, Damon appears to be very... educated on the subject of Christmas activities. Stefan too. When he was making paper-toys earlier today, I considered it to be just another attempt at _'normal Christmas'._ But it never crossed my mind that it's not something people _normally_ do. I frown, pondering over the fact. Paper-toy making is just a tradition my dad started after he had kissed mom under mistletoe for the first time... Mom and dad would make some paper animals (well, they _thought_ their toys resembled animals) and hide them somewhere in the Christmas tree. Later, Jeremy and I joined this little family tradition. I am pretty sure I haven't shared it with anyone but Matt. We made our own toys during that last Christmas together...

The gears in my head start to tick over again as I ask incredulously. "Have you talked to _Matt?_ " The idea sounds more than just ridiculous.

"Right. Donovan and I, chit-chatting about cute Christmas things," Damon's snort reassures me at first that something _that_ absurd just can't happen. His next words knock me. " _Stefan,_ on the other hand, had one hell of an interrogation."

"What?!" Now I am completely baffled. I was a fool to think that this fake Christmas would get boring. I almost wish it would.

"Oh, yeah... He had a _really_ long and touching talk with Donovan yesterday. Thought I would never get my beauty-sleep with them discussing the hue of Rudolph's nose," Damon rolls his eyes. "Donovan can actually write a manual now. _'How to Be a Normal Boyfriend' by Matt Donovan._ Sounds lame to me, but Stefan will be a fan."

"Now you are being mean to him," I frown at Damon. He is trying to change the subject by putting ridiculous ideas into my head, and he has almost succeeded, because for a moment I really bought this... _explanation_ of his. "Stefan was asking about family traditions for Christmas. I do not like him trying to make it look _normal_ , but-"

Damon interrupts me with a scornful laugh. "And he has to ask _Matt_ about it? Not Jeremy, not Caroline or Bonnie?" Before I can counter his kind-of-logical question with a reasonable question of my own, Damon, armed with a smug grin, makes another verbal assault. "Okay, let's say that Matt and Stefan are BFF now. Would you, _please,_ enumerate all the things Stefan has done today so far?" I huff in indignation, but mentally do what he asks. "How about you compare Stefan's and Matt's lists to-do now? Send post-cards - check! Order a Canadian spruce - check! Decorate the roof with reindeer - check!"

"Duh, everyone does these things on Christmas!" I attempt to brush off his question nonchalantly, because I can't have those little gnawing suspicions inside my head confirmed... But Damon is not the one to give up. And some part of me, the one I've been oppressing since morning and the one that craves _truth_ , doesn't want him to.

"Oh, right. I should name things that _no one_ does on Christmas. No one but _Matt_ and his best friend _Stefan,_ " His grin gets even wider. "Hang mistletoe in Elena's car - check! Make paper-toys - check! Secretly change Elena's ringtone to _Last Christmas_ \- check! ..What? Not this one?" he taunts as I try to object meekly. Damon is literally drowning me, and I am feebly pushing against confusion, disbelief... and disappointment. "Wow, he decided to give it a personal touch. Or he just hates the song. Anyway, where was I? Hmm, something is missing..."

"Stop... Please. I get it," my voice is strained and tired, still I fling my last question at him. "Why..? Why would he do that?"

Damon shakes his head ruefully, his smug grin turning into a grimace. "Stefan gave up his chance on a _happy_ life with you when he decided to get that cure for me. He made a choice. And it's not like he regrets it. But he can't shake the guilt off," he huffs in irritation. "That's Stefan for you. He feels bad for abandoning you and ripping some girls to pieces instead. So, it's his great Christmas-Redemption-Plan in action you witness now. _I am a fucking vampire, but I can still be a normal boyfriend who writes Christmas post-cards and eats Christmas pudding._ "

I manage a weak nod, too flabbergasted to utter a word. Something is just... so wrong about this. I should be more understanding, supportive even. Stefan is still doing all this for me, even if it means pretending to be someone he just cannot be. Shouldn't I be... grateful?

That's too much for one day. Fake Christmas I can deal with. Fake other me in the different reality. Fine. But fake _Stefan_? It's something I can't be okay with. What is next? He is hating himself for something I have already forgiven! Why should he pretend? When I accepted his love, I accepted all of him. Even though I had some definite gaps in his life story and my knowledge of his... dark side was close to zero. I still chose to stay by his side. It's my _reality._ And despite all its hardships, I like what I have. I love whom I _have_... not whom I would have had...

"You asked me about my choice," this abrupt change of topic (or rather the unexpected return to the original one) draws me out from the dark pool of my steaming mind. I refocus on Damon, who has taken a few steps away from me while I was deep in thought. "Katherine or Stefan. It was clever of you to bring up this parallel. Guess you were hoping to achieve my _understanding,_ " he chuckles wistfully, but a faint glint of amusement still catches my ear. I blink as understanding dawns upon _me,_ his next words just confirming the sudden realization. "Of course I know what I was doing in 1864. I would have never let anything, or anyone, destroy Stefan. So, I _do_ understand why you would pretend to be happy for his sake. Believe me, Elena, I do. No less than I understand why I shouldn't have told you what I did for his sake." He tilts his head to the side then, just watching me for a few seconds. Something warm, no, _scorching,_ invades me. _It_ 's taking purposefully slow steps at first, brushing lightly against my heart, flying carefully over my thoughts... And before I can register _its_ presence, it's full galloping across my whole being. No...

Not again. Not today! Please, don't. I was fighting it so hard... I feel _it_ throbbing in my chest again, feel _it_ occupying every part of my consciousness. And I want to shove _it_ away. Need to shove _it_ away! The wall I've built is crumbling apart... brick by brick. No...

"It was a good parallel, Elena," he repeats in ostentatiously cheerful tone with a smile not quite reaching his eyes. Every word is a new breach in the wall... "You've only missed one crucial detail," for a fleeting moment Damon's face is lit up with joy of a light-hearted man. He is almost laughing (I am not even sure at whom, maybe at _himself_ ) when saying this. "I chose Stefan over Katherine". Making a pause and looking over his shoulder, Damon stabs me with a deep look. "I can't choose him over you."

Then, he is gone.


	3. Take Me Away

Chapter III

 **Take Me Away**

It's just like that last time. Evening, no one around. At first Damon turns my world upside down by saying or doing something incredible... And then he goes away, leaving me to deal with _it_ alone. Leaving me to drown in _it._ I moan helplessly, leaning against the wall. How comes that I always end up in the same situation? Why can't _it_ simply disappear? This little snickering voice in my head, that's suspiciously resembling Damon's, singsongs the answer. To tune it out, I redirect a train of thoughts towards Stefan. If anything can help me to rebuild this wall inside my chest, it's him...

It starts well. Some pleasant memories of those days when he was just a nice handsome new student give me the first brick to patch up a small breach in the wall against Damon. Then other happy memories rush to aid. Saving me, protecting me, kissing me. Leaving me. The invisible reconstruction halts. Leaving. He left me. Stefan left me. He saved Damon...

No, no, no! He did the right thing! I would have done the same thing for Jeremy! Why am I even questioning it?

Angered by my own ridicule and unreasonable sadness, I furiously push the damn brick into the hole, to completely fence Damon-related feelings out. It's Stefan who brought me out of my misery, who brought a smile to my face when all I could do was cry! Damn brick, why won't you just fit?! Somehow, no matter what memories fire the brick, it is still not hard enough to withstand the pressure... The force that's streaming through the breach crashes anything I put into its way... Another groan escapes my throat as I clench my head, trying to chuck _it_ out of me. _It._ This cursed _it,_ pulsating in my veins, boiling in my blood, exploding in my mind and storming in my heart.

Get out!

The clocks are ticking mockingly at me as I collapse to the floor, my head buried in my folded knees. Go away... I am almost pleading with my own heart now. How pathetic... I can't even control my own emotions. Shouldn't it be easy? Am I not the one in charge of my feelings? I know what I need! _What you need is what you want._ Yes, and I want _this_ , not something at the other side of the wall. _Truth is what you want, Lena._ Shut up already!

"Elena! We've got a problem!" Panic in Stefan's voice alerts me, causing me emerge from the slough of my inner world. I am almost relieved. Any hazard, any danger now sounds alluring. Maybe I should have just gone to Klaus in the first place? That would be normal. No questioning, no antagonizing. Just physical pain. Shaking my head slightly to free myself from self-destructive thoughts, I spring up to my feet. Stefan bursts into the kitchen, his brows knitted in worry and regret. With anticipation beating inside, I open my mouth to inquire... The words die on my lips along with the enthusiasm as I catch sight of Rudolph's head in Stefan's arms. "I am so sorry, Elena! We were too slow and it just fell down!" Obviously misinterpreting my disappointed look, the younger Salvatore hastes to reassure me. "Don't worry, we still have six... five and a half hours to fix it! The shops are already closed, but I think I can still drive to the nearest-"

"Stefan." My fingers on his lips render him speechless. It would have been my lips. If not for the crumbling wall... "It's okay." No, it is not. My life will never be the same due to the damn plastic animal. "You did your best." And I did mine. This wall... I've almost patched it up! Just one damn reason more! And _it_ would have been banished from our side of the wall! "Calm down." Because there is nothing either you or I can do now. The wall, it has fallen down. No wall to keep _it_ away. Every brick I was carefully putting to lock _it_ up has crumbled to pieces. "I know what to do." I think I finally do. It feels... good. It feel... real. Normal. "You go and get some rest. No objections," I give him a stern look, accompanied with a bit wistful, but kind smile. "I'll be back." With that said, I lock him in a tight hug, that is much more meaningful than he imagines. It has been a nice trip. And I enjoyed it. But that is where it ends, and it's time for me to get off.

As I open the front door, chilly winter wind kisses my face. Drawing a sharp intake of humid air, I close my eyes for a moment. Somehow, at the brink of my consciousness I know what's about to happen after I open them. And I am ready.

As I blink away the raindrops, I notice that the sky is pitch dark now. The streets are deserted, families finishing their last Christmas preparations. No one but me is strolling the city in this hour on this day of the year. I watch lit windows while passing by. Some young girls giggling and swirling in beautiful dresses. A bitterly amused smile touches my lips as I realize that almost every girl in the city envies me. Silly them. Silly me. It must be their Christmas wish to get an invitation for a fancy Christmas ball next year and have Stefan Salvatore for a dance partner. And here am I, wasting a _perfect_ _life_ by roaming aimlessly in the extravagant dress with the most beautiful wedding ring on my finger. Skipping the famous ball. On Christmas. God, I am spoiled. But the truth is that I feel almost fine now. Much better than among pompous and arrogant strangers. Much better than next to smiling overjoyed Stefan. It is... peaceful here. I should not have run away, it's what I was fighting _him_ about. But at some point something just snapped inside of me. I lost it... There were so many feelings, so much frustration that I just needed to get away for a gulp of fresh air... And once I was out of the mansion, I just couldn't stop. I ran, and ran, and ran...

I should return, though. How much time has passed since I left? Minutes, hours? It's still quiet outside, meaning that it is not midnight. Stefan and my parents must be quite worried... All in all, I disappeared without as much as a word...

So engulfed in my thoughts I was that I haven't noticed my legs carrying me to the railway station. The machinist is crying out for the remaining passengers to board the train. I watch people hastily getting inside warm cozy carriages, shoving their luggage through narrow passages and then lighting up small candles inside. I see a woman taking her bonnet off and hiding it somewhere in the depth of her compartment. I see an old married couple bickering about having their dog on that journey. I see a man struggling at the entrance with a bag bigger than him. I watch and watch... Eating them greedily with my eyes. Something is bothering me, though. Tugging at my heart. Why do all these people have to leave their home on Christmas? Shouldn't they spend this time with their loved ones, their family?... On the other hand, they are going somewhere... They are moving. They are living. And Christmas is all about living...

It starts to drizzle again. I keep on standing there under a dim street light, pesky little drops penetrating my clothes. My feet are numb as water's gurgling in my light dancing shoes I forgot to change. When I was leaving the mansion, it didn't cross my mind to put on boots. At this point I am sopping wet, freezing in the wind. A good reason to return. If I hurry up, I can even make it before midnight. I make a step back and my foot gets into a deep puddle. Not that it makes a difference to a soaked through person, but I still frown at the dark ruffled water with my slurred reflection. Can it ever snow in this goddamned city!?... I recognize the feeling then.

It is longing. If only I could catch a train and go, go, go... I wish...

"Wish you had a one-way ticket?"

I shouldn't be surprised. One would think that two years is enough to get used to _him_ sneaking up on me. Two years is more than enough to remember that _he_ isalways waiting for me in the shadows. And that's quite enough to realize that for some reason _he_ won't stop doing it. Still, _his_ low-voiced question, that seems to sound genuinely interested, gives me a start, and I spin around.

Damon is standing right under an unlit street-lamp, leaning against it in a relaxed manner, his hands folded on the chest. A small lop-sided smile creeps onto his face upon my hostile glare. That is the funny thing about us. We play a game that is bound to end up with one (or both) of us miserable. And we still crawl back for more. For a rematch, for another round... And it's only now that I realize it! It is insane. But a big part of me has always enjoyed these challenges. Every victory makes me stronger, every defeat gives me a reason to keep on fighting...

This Christmas is literally _soaking_ with revelations.

"You are a mess," I comment bluntly on his disheveled look. Another funny thing: I never ask Damon 'what are you doing here?'. The funniest thing, however, is that Damon himself doesn't have an answer to that very question.

"And you, my lady, are always stunning," he replies smoothly with the same crooked smile. I can't even say how much sarcasm is intended here. At this pace I can run out of my daggers-to-glare before one of us stalks away. "So..." Damon drawls out as his icy eyes follow the passengers.

"So," I repeat dully, not in the mood for an idle talk. My rage may have appeased, but wounds are still fresh and aching. The only reason I am talking to him now is because Damon is a valid excuse to postpone my return to the mansion.

He squints at me in curiosity, as if appraising my humour. I choose to keep silent. Maybe he will get bored and leave. Stupid to count on it, but still. I am vaguely aware of annoying raindrops plastering hair to my face. Suddenly, Damon's grin gets impossibly wider, alarming me a bit. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes dart to me and feign terror. Obviously, this imbecile has found a source of amusement to mock me and I can't locate it. I start to fidget and look round, growing nervous and impatient. These games of his... A few distressed moments later Damon finally takes a pity at me and expressly rubs his cheek while watching me intently. Furrowing my eye-brows, I touch my own cheek. Wet. So what? It's kind of drizzling... Suspiciously, I cast my eyes down to look at the hand...-

I blink.

My fingers are smeared with black. And it hits me. An involuntary growl escapes my throat then. My aunts have insisted on putting some basma on my eyelashes for the ball... Now raindrops are using my face as a canvas. Damon's compliment makes much more sense now.

"Stupid rain," I mumble in dismay, vexed with stupid aunts, a stupid ball, a stupid city with its stupid climate...

Damon's hand is suddenly gripping my forearm, pulling me away from the unlit street-lamp. He acts so fast that it takes me a minute to come back to my wits and try to break free. But before I can really put up a struggle or even voice out my indignation, he loosens a grip on my arm and stops. I bump into him, but Damon pays no heed. He is knocking loudly on the ticket-office window. To say that I am puzzled is a huge understatement. As confusion takes a comfortable place next to unruffled curiosity inside my head, I dumbly watch the scene in front of me. The shutter slides open and a very annoyed woman peeks out of the window.

"No tickets," she barks out shortly and is about to close the window, but Damon's hand deftly gets between the wall and the shutter. Armed with a charming smile, he starts the act in his most innocent and charming voice.

"My lady, you are my only hope! We've been on the run from our raging families for days now! Surely you can find two one-way tickets for my fiancé and me?" I hardly register the meaning of the words. His passionate voice thrills, excites. A whole drama starts to play out in my mind as Damon's fluently made up story of two eloping lovers triggers imagination.

"Oh... I-I am sorry..." the woman's tone changes drastically as she is also trapped by the Salvatore's ardent words. "I wish I could help, b-but..."

"But there must be _something_ you can do!" he sounds so desperate that even my hardened mind has no doubts about the sincerity of his feelings. "I can't lose her again! They will take her away from me! On Christmas!"

The rain is still drizzling, making our looks even more miserable. We must be quite a sight, all wet through, our clothes dirty from muddy water, and Damon's vest torn in several places. A very typical image of eloping lovers. I can't help a small snicker at the gullible lady, but I quickly turn the sound into a sniff, as her compassionate eyes dart to me. Damon watches me askew, his lips secretly quirking upwards before he looks back at the woman, absolute despair distorting his face. I should be at the very least indignant, outraged even, at his audacity. And it would be logical to throw a fit right here right now, whirl around and stomp away with my chin proudly raised. But my cursed curiosity holds me on spot. I am... intrigued at the outcome of this performance.

"Please," Damon's intense glare is almost setting the poor woman on fire. "I am willing to pay for this trip!" At this he meaningfully flashes a hand with his family ring. The woman and I gape at the invaluable jewelry. He can't possibly mean it. That's when an odd feeling of disappointment washes away the illusion I've started to believe. It's just another game. A private performance. I can almost laugh at my own stupidity. Seriously? What was I hoping for? A rational part of me relishes in a sudden relief. The show will end in a few minutes, I'll make a few witty remarks, he'll reply with snide ones of his own, we'll share a laugh and return to the normal routine of Christmas at the mansion... with fake smiles, gossips behind my back, envious glances and impossibly trusting Stefan. That's why another secretive part of me is immensely saddened by the prospect of returning to the... _reality._ Not that it matters, though. As if...

"Well, if you're so desperate..." The woman's eyes are glued to the ring that glitters alluringly on Damon't middle finger. Her compassion is now fueled by greed. Too bad that she won't satisfy any. I guess that Damon will fool around for a few more minutes, squeeze another tear or two out of the poor lady (all the while effectively ruining her Christmas mood), raise her greed to a whole new level, probably get to the climax of this performance before-

A merry jingle rings out in my ears. The beautiful ring with a huge 'D' on it falls on the counter, and a wrinkled palm readily covers it. "Follow me, my dear!" the woman hastily closes the window and exits the ticket-office, not even bothering to put on a coat. The ring in her pocket must be warming her all right. Scrutinizing them with an interesting stare of a guiltily glad sympathizer, she ushers them to the first-class carriage and comes up to the conductress. While the women chatter in low voices, I am fighting the disbelief that has seized my expression. I try to look nonplussed and skeptical, but some madness has overtaken me, and I can't dismiss the growing agitation... I stubbornly repeat to my naive racing heart that it's just a stupid game, nothing more. But the stupid hope won't let me go. It's clinging to me like a drowning man to a straw... Or rather it's me clinging... Ugh, why don't I ever learn? I sigh in exasperation at myself, my arms crossed on the chest. I pointedly ignore _his_ smoldering eyes, not ready to deal with his cocky expression.

"Excited, my dear _fianc_ _é_ _?"_ Damon wonders in a sweetly concerned voice. My first instinct is to send him a withering glare, but at the last moment I think better of it. Instead, I shyly purse my lips and lower my eyes.

"More than ever," I gasp out as if being breathless from all the overflowing emotions just in time for the woman to witness our "star-crossed-lovers'-dialogue".

"It wasn't easy, but we have found a spare first-class compartment for you two sweethearts! I wish you find your long-awaited happiness!" the woman announces joyfully, obviously pleased with her accomplishment. I cast a rueful smile at her, but say nothing. She is not a bad person. Her part of an unspoken deal was kept in an impeccable way, and it looks like she's sincerely concerned about _the fate of eloping lovers_. Too bad that Damon is about to dispel the act... I wonder if the ring he has given her is in his pocket already. Though, he will probably just haughtily demand for it's return and threaten her in the meanest way po- "Hurry up, you two! The train is leaving in two minutes!" The conductress urges us to get inside, stepping aside to let us into the carriage. Warm air, saturated with a poignant smell of coal, hits my face, and I push aside the rising longing in my chest. The sooner we leave, the better. I am about to hasten Damon to be already done with spoiling people's Christmas so that we can get on our way back... But I am swept off of my feet before I can turn around. Rendered speechless, I am being carried by my _new_ _fianc_ _é_ to the carriage.

No sooner have we bordered the train, it's set in motion. With the hooter still echoing in my ears, I risk a glimpse out of the window. The woman is happily waving to us and I can read "Merry Christmas!" on her lips.

The train is leaving the city. God, I am really leaving the city! Leaving this gray constantly crying sky, these streets in puddles, these cold humid winds...

The carriage jerks suddenly, causing Damon to lose his feet. Next moment we are sprawled on a narrow berth with me pinned underneath. Finally, I sober up, alarm dashing against me at the realization. God... What am I doing?!

"Quite a comfortable compartment, won't you agree?" _his_ animated voice sounds right into my ear, lips suspended over the skin of my cheek. I feel something catch in the back of my throat, and sit bolt upright, every part of my body on fire. Damon is obviously quite amused by my reaction. Chuckling, he locks his hands behind the head, without changing his lying position. There is so much smugness concentrated in his look that I want to take him up the collar and give him a _good_ long shake. Glowering, I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly. Well!? He has some explanation to do. He won't speak though, a mischievous spark glinting in the blue eyes.

"Too expensive," I manage to say through my clenched teeth, trying to strike a right chord. Unfortunately, he doesn't budge a muscle. If anything, his amusement only soars up, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug. I wait for him to retrieve the ring from the pocket. Or to say something about never giving away the real one in the first place...

"I had no money on me," he explains in a matter-of-fact manner, playing with a rim of my soaked velvet skirt. Suppressing an annoyed, or rather despaired, groan, I toss a stern look at him, hoping to draw an explanation out of him. "If you keep on boring me with these _beautiful_ intense eyes of yours, I'll be inclined to..." he trails off, his hand traveling up my arm. The touch burns me even through the thick fabric of my dress. Keen awareness of our proximity has slammed into my mind, and all concern about me - _us -_ leaving the city suddenly seems completely irrelevant. Squirming, I grab his hand and forcefully put it away from me.

Silence is oppressing. Too many unsaid questions are soaring between us. Too many thoughts are playgoing my mind. "How are you going to retrieve the ring?" I ask as casually as my palpitating heart allows me, my eyes sticked to the cold window. Raindrops are lazily rolling down the glass.

I watch his reflection stir. "Hmm..." Damon rubs his chin musingly. "Guess I can always charge her with theft," the elder Salvatore suggests, his middle finger still tapping his chin in thought. "Mm, no, too much paper work. It'll be easier to contact her landlord to make her pawn my ring. Oh, I have a better idea! I can play offended, and she will beg me to take it back as an apology! For God's sake, I can just marry her. What should I do?" he heaves a mockingly exhausted sigh as if deciding someone's fate is just some boring nuisance. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead already. What have I expected, really? It's _Damon_. Disgusted, I turn around, intending to leave the compartment and go... somewhere. Just away from this callous, sarcastic- "But I think I'll just let her have it," he utters under his breath, freezing me on spot. I drag my bemused gaze to his sprawled form. Damon's eyes are closed, features relaxed, mouth slightly open. This expression is almost alien, I hardly recognize the man in front of me. He looks so... peaceful. I linger at the threshold, convincing myself that he is simply biding his time for something really mean. As soon as Damon gets _Damonish_ again, I am leaving. Maybe I can spend the rest of the journey in the passage?

He, however, remains silent. But I still wait, keeping a wary eye on his neutral face, expecting spite to distort it any second now. One minute, two... I don't know for how long I've been searchingly staring at him, but last city houses have finally flashed in the window before ceding to moonlit fields. Can Damon actually mean what he said? But... Then it implies that he just gave his family ring for... _this? This_ something I don't even know how to call! Nonsense...

I should spin around and go. Go, before disappointment ruins me once again. Too many times for one day, for one Christmas. Just turn away, step over the threshold and go. I can even get off on the next stop, it's won't be too far from the city...

But despite my best efforts to wither the seeds of doubt, they start to sprout. And bloom.

"It is your family ring," my voice is barely a whisper as my rational side revolts against talking to him. Turns out, curiosity is a powerful ally when it comes to the decision making. This and... longing. Longing for the impossible.

"Yes. Originates back to 1575," Damon adds tonelessly without opening his eyes. If my stare was drilling him earlier, than it is surely excavating him now.

"Why would you give it away?" My mask of indifference cracks at last and sheer bewilderment leaks out. Upon hearing my radically changed tone, Damon snaps his eyes open, instantly piercing me.

"As I said, I didn't have any money on me," he repeats quietly, stirring me up all the more. To be honest, I am at the point of beating answers out of him.

"Drop it! You know what I mean!" My voice rises to a scream. For the first time I don't even try to calm down or keep a level head. I don't care if he sees how very unhinged I am by his actions! This Christmas is insane. The whole day is insane! But so far this moment is the most insane. It's now that it is finally crashing down on me, every little crazy detail of my current situation. And panic is rapidly invading me, banishing everything else. Lack of understanding doesn't improve my state.

Where am I? On a train. Where am I going? No idea. What am I leaving behind? My home, my family, my fiancé. When is it all happening? On Christmas. Who is accompanying me? _Him._

And this last answer sets a whole new stream of questions, most of which start with "why?".

I am done with his games. I've probably mentioned it more than once today. But this time I am truly done. As Damon said himself, I want the _truth_. I need to get everything straight. Because right now I am so freaked out, and confused, and thrilled, and lost... that jumping out of the goddamned train sounds very tempting.

"Why am I here?" I ask deliberately slow, taking a step toward Damon. "Why are _you_ here? Did you plan it all along? To spite Stefan? How did you even know that I would run away? Or where I would go?" Surprisingly, my tone remains flat, never breaking into a yell. A tempest, though, is raging inside.

"The first two questions make sense. Would it suffice if I answer only them? I don't remember the other ones anyway." Damon's gaze is as intense as mine, his voice as casual as before. He almost looks _tired_. Relenting, I give him a curt nod. One explanation is better than nothing. "You needed to get away. Here you are, getting away from sweet home." A groan of frustration tears my throat, at this moment I am ready to slap him - _hard -_ and _get away_ from _him._ A cold hand suddenly catches my wrist, gripping it tightly. Not even bothering to conceal exhaustion, I cast a warning glare at Damon... and stand still, baffled by his completely weary eyes. But what's more astonishing... they are brutally honest. "Elena, Elena, Elena..." Damon's head is still resting on the berth, but his tone implies that it should be shaking in a hopeless manner. "I can't answer for you, because even though I understand you a way better than my little brother or even your lovely relatives, you never cease to surprise me." A tired crooked smile finds a way to his lips, his thumb caressing my hand as he's still holding it. I feel warmth spreading inside my chest, vaguely wondering where it came from, but too concentrated on Damon's words to really ponder over the strange feeling. "Let's make a little deal. That's how we... _comprehend_ best." Another small nod from me, followed by a weak grin of my own. That is the best way of communication. For us. "I tell you why _I_ am here. You tell me why _you_ are here." I purse my lips at that, but don't argue. Encouraged by my not-very-reluctant-agreement, Damon continues, his voice getting deep. "Your absence didn't go unnoticed. By _me_. When Stefan couldn't find you, he decided that you had left to change your dancing shoes or to talk to your father... Something like that." He gives me a pointed look, and I shift my eyes away, guilt gnawing at my conscience. Stefan. Never thinking the worst. Never doubting me. Looks like I am even better at pretending than I thought. Or maybe Damon is right, and his brother is acquainted with only one side of me. "I knew better, of course. I guess I kind of... snapped. And... In one word, we had a row. After that I left the damn ball, because, honestly, the only thing I enjoy about these Christmas balls is a perfect opportunity to mess with you. Well, that and to aggravate Stefan, but my little brother was already aggravated all right. So, there wasn't much of a choice left for me. Oh, and I really wanted to say "Told you so" upon finding you, since you did literally run away from the ball. And, let me remind you, I told you not to bother with doing something you hate just for the sake of _others._ Nice to know that you do listen to my _friendly_ advice! And by the way... _Told you so."_

"Damon, I am at the point of strangling you with my bare hands right now. So, I recommend you to listen to _my friendly advice._ Wipe that smart look of your face, assume humbleness and keep to the topic." My warning falls on deaf ears as his lips curve even more... Though the twist doesn't appear sharp or taunting. I can't believe it, but this smugness of his doesn't infuriate me. Oh, it _is_ annoying all right. And my arms are still itching to choke him. The odd thing is that I welcome this generally unpleasant feeling. It's unhealthily _wanted_.

"As my lady wishes!" he responds dutifully, causing me to roll my eyes. I didn't register the moment my panic slipped away, giving way to animation. "Anyway, you see, I had a lot of reasons for finding you, so I left to search for you while Stefan was brooding at the ball, hating my guts. I wasn't sure you would go to the railway station. But after a short deduction, it turned out to be the most logical direction. A girl on the run from her life? She is bound to at least come there if only to watch trains leave. So, that's why I am here." Damon's small smirk is contagious, and I feel the corners of my mouth involuntary tilting upward, though I stubbornly try to tamp down a misplaced smile. He laughs at my struggle, and I scowl at him half-heartedly. "Because I quite enjoyed those two Christmas nights with you around, because your fake smiles for my brother's sake really piss me off, and because I wouldn't mind to have real you all for myself," he looks at me expectingly, and he is probably not disappointed to find my face flabbergasted and just slightly reddened. My blush, though, must be securely concealed in the semi-darkness of the compartment, one feeble candle is barely enough to enable us to read face features.

"So, you exchanged your family ring - probably the most important item an heir can have - for..." I trail off, words evading me. How can I call it? All his _reasons_ have only one thing in common... and it terrifies me! But just like always, excitement trails after my awe... And I can't tell what feeling is dominating now.

"You can say it out loud!" Damon singsongs in a cheery voice, but a hardly noticeable shadow of wistfulness floats over his gaze. "Mother's ring was mine to give... Technically, it _was_ me who gave it you, but... it wasn't done _properly_. So..." His thumb is playing with a wedding ring on my finger, the action sending shivers down my spine. Here am I, discussing the most devastating moment of this day with the culprit. Instead of disdain and content, feelings that should burn me out, it's amusement galloping inside of me. I am so... vivid and alive! I want to laugh, and mock, and tease, and fight, and argue... "So, father's ring will have to do. This time it was better, right? Well, you didn't exactly get the ring, but it was meant for you, and you already have mother's ring, so I hope it's fine with you!"

"Fine...?" I repeat incredulously, not sure how to put into words my... What exactly? Bewilderment? Shock? I've used these nouns earlier today and my current state is nothing of the like. "You are telling me that you - _you,_ Damon - left the Christmas ball to search for _me,_ that you gave away the heir's relic for an impromptu journey with _me_ and that you intended to present _me_ with your mother's wedding ring. Am I missing something?"

"Yes, I think I also gave my little brother a black-eye for Christmas because of _you_ ," he retorts casually. My scowl prompts him to elaborate. "Well, my patience is a very limited resource. And Stefan was exploiting _all_ day. So, that's it: I ran out of patience. Oh, and I was still a little bit... upset about him taking _my_ ring without telling me".

"But Stefan didn't have the ring. You had," I ask in confusion, a small frown creasing my face.

"Of course he didn't," Damon snorts, his eyes getting hard and bitter. "I knew it was a question of time. Still, I wondered... if Stefan would have enough guts to ask me for the ring. Or at least fight me for it. But no, he wasn't a fool to believe that I would happily entrust him with mother's ring, but he was an idiot to think that I wouldn't notice the disappearance. So, I snatched it from his pocket right before our... unfortunate conversation." A smile, that doesn't quite reach the blue eyes, pulls at his lips. "Suffice to say, I had different plans for it."

"You wanted to give me the ring." It is not a question, so Damon refrains from answering. He is simply studying the cherished item on my finger, his face once again hidden under a mask of indifference.

"Why are _you_ here?" he asks flatly, his voice is almost devoid of emotion. My ear catches only a faint hint of sadness and... No, his tone lacked it, but not his eyes. Anxiety. Damon _is_ anxious to hear my answer... An answer I haven't come up with. Not yet... But I am close.

In my turn, I study this composed exterior. Mere hours ago I would have referred this whole talk to another sick game of his. Truth to be told, this rational side of me, that's been ruling over my actions for the last 18 years of my life, is still furiously trying to convince me in this.

 _Who am I talking to?! It's HIM_. _Whatever I think is brewing in my chest is a lie - a product of his eloquence and charm, his malicious plan to wound both Stefan and me. It is absolutely insane. Ridiculous! We've been hating each other's guts for two years! And now all of a sudden I am running away to nowhere with HIM_. _Sympathizing with HIM. Laughing and enjoying HIS company. What next? Love confession?! Can't I see something very - VERY - wrong about it?!_

At some point of our _acquaintance_ I have involuntary started to disregard this restricted side of me. Little by little, I've been pushing it further and further away. And despite its short outbursts, this rational side was getting weaker and weaker. Whatever is throbbing in my heart and clouding my mind... I know _it_ is not a lie. My smile at the ball, that's a lie. My contentment with a peaceful life at the mansion, also a lie. A perfect image of me in Stefan's eyes. A lie. Me hating Damon? The biggest delusion of all. And also a lie. It wasn't about the hatred... It never was. Well, I should admit that sometimes it's really hard to tell! But now that I am free from my restrictions I see it clearly. It's always about a challenge. About impossibility and insanity. About wilderness and freedom. Damon and I, we are an adventure, a risk. We don't hate and we don't aim to harm. We push and pull.

That's the truth. No pretense, no fake smiles.

It's moments like this that make your life feel real. Moments like hopping on a train that goes who knows where. Like exchanging your family relic for a spontaneous journey. Like willingly spending Christmas with the most infuriating person you know. This is what makes me feel alive.

That's why my next words are like a first breath of air. "Because you did give me this ring."

Silence. For people, who have been arguing since the first minute of their acquaintance, we are unusually reticent today... I try to distract myself with something, anything! Fields bathing in the pale moonlight, candle fire shyly dancing on a wick... My wet and worn-out shoes. Well, there are so many things to watch in the compartment. A sigh leaves me as my eyes shift back to him. Damon is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hand still on mine. I focus on the touch then. So cold... His cloak looks quite warm, so it's strange that he is freezing. Frowning, I examine him closer. I can't say for sure with all the semi-darkness surrounding us, but his hand does look paler than usual. My eyes travel up his arm then and stop at his shoulder. It is only now that I notice a dark blot on his cloak... Or maybe it wasn't there when we were at the station. A nasty suspicion starts to gnaw at my mind. Quickly, before he can catch my hand, I pull the fabric off.

The sight makes me gasp and I return my questioning angry eyes back to his a bit guilty ones. "Ugh... Stefan's page is a very nervous lad... With a terrible aim, thanks God," Damon cringes as I force his hand away from the wound, wishing to have a clear view of it.

"He shot you and you just left the mansion?! Without a medic to attend to the wound?!" Rage is rapidly spreading over me, I feel my fists shaking. How can he be so reckless?! It can be infected, he can lose too much blood... He probably have already, judging by his ice-cold skin. What a stupid-

"It is just a little hole in my shoulder. Nothing I can't deal with," Damon reassures me with his trade cocky smirk, gently retrieving the cloak and covering the wound. I keep on glaring at him, though, still mad at this recklessness, thoughtlessness, stupidity...- "Don't worry, Miss Gilbert, I've survived worse," he adds in a teasingly official manner, and I burrow my brows even more.

" _You_ don't worry, Mr. Salvatore. I do _not_ worry," I answer tersely. And that is true. I am not worried. But I am concerned... And my heart skips a beat as another realization hits me that he left the mansion without seeing a doctor just to search for me. So that I wouldn't spend Christmas alone somewhere in the middle of a cold street and regret it later... Without thinking it through, I surround his ice-cold fingers with both of my hands and bring them to my mouth. I can feel Damon's curious gaze on me as I warm his hand with my breath.

"I have a confession to make." The finality in his voice scares me, and my eyes involuntary jump to his. A hint of amusement in the blue depths does nothing to reassure me. Damon, being as impossible as always, doesn't haste to speak. No, he is watching me closely... Almost _hungrily._ Enjoying my distress immensely, no doubt. I purse my lips, scowling at him. What? What? _What?_ Damon can read it in every feature of my face, I am sure. That's probably why he is taking his sweet time torturing me. God, can he hear my heart?! Because it's racing madly. At last, Damon draws a long deep intake of air. I stand still, my breath caught in the throat. "The truth is that... I have no idea what to say," he blurts out, a smug smirk marring his lips. Here. Anger, at last! I've been missing it.

"Do you really want me to bombard you with ' _what?_ ' and ' _huh?_ ', Damon?" I drawl out with an eyebrow raised skeptically, keeping my newly arrived anger at bay. Later...

"Mm, I hoped you would beg me to explain," he pouts playfully, and I grin back... while squeezing his fingers. Hard. "Someone's in a bad mood," Damon manages a chuckle through gritted teeth. "Please, don't crush my fingers! Now, do you want me to beg _you?_ " he whines and puts on a hurt expression. I squeeze his hand in confirmation, my smile getting devilish. "Elena, I _beg_ _you_ to leave my fingers out of this! I swear, they have nothing to do with my terrible attitude! Please, Elena, have mercy on these innocent parts of me! Seriously, it's not their fault I don't know what to say!" I try (really, I do!) to contain my amusement, but it still finds some break in my composure... and I burst out laughing. God... It's so... amazing! My watering eyes catch Damon's infuriating grin getting softer then. He shakes his head in mocking disbelief. "Glad to know that my anguish is soooo funny. Oh, please tell me then, what would _you_ say if you were in my boots?"

"And your boots are what exactly?" I gasp out, still endeavoring to stifle my laughter. I do somewhat succeed, though I can't make that stupid grin disappear from my face. Not that I care.

"So, here is the problem." Damon clears his throat and makes up a very serious face, his brows knotted dramatically. I adjust my expression to fit his mask of gravity, my look ostentatiously grim. "There is a young lady..."

"Yes, that is always a problem," I nod in understanding, prompting him to continue like a patient doctor. Like having no clue about our train's destination, I can't even imagine the outcome of this seemingly harmless play-acting. But one thing is for sure. I already enjoy it.

"...who is in love with my little brother. And there is my little brother..." He lowers his voice as if sharing something very secret. "... who is in love with this young lady's portrait."

"A portrait?!" I cry out in this scandalized voice my aunts are using _all_ the time while gossiping.

"A goddamned portrait!" Damon's eyes are so wide that one could think he's indeed shocked. "You see, this young lady is so very enamored that she is terrified of losing my brother's love! Ah, I have forgotten to describe the lady in question." His gaze gets dreamy then, and I involuntary lean closer to him, eager to hear _the_ _lady's_ description from his angle. "She's a nightmare," Damon deadpans, but an amused smile grazes his mouth. I narrow my eyes at that, not sure how to react. "Not like a scary nightmare that tortures you with gruesome pictures. More like a nightmare after a few bottles of vodka, where everything is messed up and a headache is your constant companion. This young lady is so full of contradictions that you can spend your whole life figuring her out and still die without an answer. There is something... _wild_ about her. She doesn't want to keep to the straight trail like everyone else. No, she makes her way into the woods. Always. Even inadvertently."

"Well, isn't she an awful person," I remark while adjusting my skirt, keeping my eyes away from the blue ones.

"That's what she thinks," Damon agrees with a wry smile. "But, as I said, this lady is a contradiction itself. While wild and passionate, her nature is gentle and caring. She protects fiercely and fights with ardour. You would think that smartness and intelligence are very rare and valuable traits in ladies. Maybe. But one thing is for sure. It is the worst thing that can happen to a man, because there is no way you can outsmart or outargue her! God help anyone who tries to defy her... And she has this annoying streak of benevolence, this desire to help everyone. And others can't _help exploiting_ it," he adds darkly, a shadow passing over his countenance. "So, this lady is not just an awful person. She is an awfully wonderful person. And, being this awfully wonderful and considerate, our lady couldn't let my sensitive brother see her wild side. So, she gave him a perfect portrait of herself. He fell in love with it immediately, and that's their happy story," Damon clasps his hands and smiles with overplayed delight. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, but feign indifference. He is striking a chord too close to home. To be frank, he has just voiced out loud the truth I have been struggling to push as deep as possible. Well, Damon is _Damon_ , of course he will dig it out. "He is happy with loving an image, and she is envious of her own portrait. A very healthy relationship, won't you say?" Damon asks with a passable show of skepticism.

"I still fail to see what _you_ have to do with this drama," I retort with a bored expression instead of answering his rhetorical question. At least, that's how my aunts react in this kind of situation. Well, maybe they do sound a bit politer... Fine, I am an _awfully_ well-mannered lady now, so what? I can be who I want to be with him. Or rather, I can just be _me..._

"Ah, right," he gasps dramatically, his hand flies to the heart. "My apologies, the lady got me distracted. So, back to _my_ problem," Damon sighs theatrically and leans back, his arms crossed. But when he starts to speak his tone is surprisingly humorless. "Unlike my little brother, I don't look at things, but rather _into_ things. So, the minute I saw that stupid portrait, I hated it."

"Why?" the question rolls off my tongue before I can stop myself. "Was the artist that bad?"

"Oh no, the lady is an awfully skilled artist, too. Did I forget to mention that she is talented at awfully many things?" This is dropped in a light-hearted teasing tone that brings a secret grin to my lips. "No, the portrait is a masterpiece. An impeccable work. Everything is in the right place, every little detail is thought through and organized. That's what makes it so plain. Dull. I am not used to... fake compliments, so I was determined to find the artist and give her a piece of my mind. Oh, another thing I haven't mentioned. This wonderful lady is proud. Not arrogant, just proud. Needless to say that my quite frank criticizing didn't go well with her. Also, I guess that my growing arrogance was constantly pushing her wounded pride..." Damon pauses then, frowning as if trying to solve a difficult problem... that is probably me since his eyes are digging into mine. "And that's my story. I hate the artist's work with every fiber of my soul, but I am hopelessly in love with the artist herself. So, tell me, what would _you_ do in my place?"

One would think that I must be shocked or terrified. Maybe frozen by those almost casually said words. Or even angered. Saddened? Well, at the very least I must be confused! God, I _myself_ was sure of that just a few minutes ago! And... That's it. I find none of these feelings, because subconsciously I knew what was coming. This side of me that longed to be free is finally out of its cage of rationality. I heard its urgent whispers when it was still imprisoned. Actually, I've been hearing them for a while now... But my rational side was brushing them aside, blocking them. Damon's words were like a key to the forsaken dungeon, caught eagerly and hungrily.

... His confession brings me ease.

"If I were you, I would just tell her this," I reply as nonchalantly as my acting skills allow me while twirling the ring on my finger. It takes all of my courage and will power to drag my seemingly calm gaze to his smoldering eyes. "You are not afraid, are you?" I add with a slight edge in my humorous tone. _This_ is insane. But the craziest thing is that I _want_ it this way.

"Terrified, to be more precise," he answers with a small smirk, examining me with careful curiosity. "I wonder how she would react, though."

"You'll never know unless you try." I turn to look through the window. The fields have ended, it is dark forest now. I hold back an ironical laugh as I recall Damon's description of the certain _artist._ I do always end up going into the woods. Literally.

"Do you think she would mind me kissing her?" I spin around as Damon casts this question at me in the most innocent tone possible, though the mischief in the blue eyes betray him. I huff indignantly, but can't help a slight grin.

"I don't know about her, but personally, I _would._ " With my chin raised proudly, I turn back to the window. Damon is back to being a self-confident trouble, and I am back to being his humbling nuisance. I just feel like defying him! This new freedom I've found yearns for another challenge. I want to push him. And even more I want him to pull me back.

There isn't much to look at in the pitch darkness, but I distract myself by watching the fire's reflection. The candle has almost burnt down. Just a few more minutes before this careless little fire dies and lets the dark fall...

A cold hand suddenly falls on my shoulder, giving me a jump. Goosebumps prick my arms as I feel his breath tingling my left ear. "Well, I'll never know... Unless I try."

The candle fire flares one more time before turning into a gracefully waltzing wisp of smoke and leaving us in complete darkness...


	4. Snow Me Up

**A/N:** OK, here comes the last chapter/epilogue! It's shorter than others, but I decided to split the previous one this way to make it logical. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this little journey, because I surely did like to write it!

P.S. Seems like the right time to post a chapter with this title. After two weeks of mud and puddles it IS snowing again in my city! =)

Chapter IV

 _These lands have never known_

 _(These lands have never known)_

 _A snowfall like this._

 _And snow keeps falling down._

 _(And snow keeps falling down)._

 _The Earth's magnificent._

 _Magnificent and clean._

 _..._

 _Snow's flying, whirling, flying,_

 _Coming closer to the Earth._

 _Winter's hiding_

 _(hiding) everything -_

 _Everything there was_

 _Before you -_

 _In the snow._

(A Snowfall Like This - Kozlova L.)

 **Snow Me Up**

 _One. Two..._ Seconds fly. Leisurely. Lazily... It is eternity creeping up on me and purring into my ear. It is freedom calling out. Nothing is important. Nothing is real, but his touch, his breath, his heartbeat. They are my only guidance in this maelstrom of sensation. It is like we are brought into a dream, because time and space do not exist there. Everything is black, but I feelthe colors burning. Everything is still, but I feel the world moving. There are fireworks, there are lights. Everything is silent, but I feel music and mirth.

We are lost. And we don't want to be found.

Something cold is caressing my cheek, tenderly drawing circles on my flushed skin. How can his ice-cold hand still set me on fire? Burn even. I want to warm it, to share my flame with him. Slowly, I bring my palm to my cheek to cover his hand. Damon takes in a ragged breath. Little by little, my fingers are getting closer and...

...My hand connects with my wet cheek. Confused, I flutter my eyes open and stare down at my palm. A tiny drop winks at me before rolling down and splattering on my knee. I blink. Another drop. Another icy kiss on my cheek. Everything seems to be surreal, something is not right... like I am misplaced. Frowning, I look up at the crying skies. Winter rain is mercilessly striking my face. But why should I care. It's always drizzling here on Christmas... Right?

Like Stefan has put it, everything is... _normal,_ even though it's definitely not. But I am OK with that. Right? All this nonsense about having _normal_ Christmas, about being a _normal_ boyfriend, etc... I am cool with that. I have decided to be cool with that. It's not like I can't pretend for my friends' sake. Or for Stefan's. So, everything is fine. I am fine.

So, what the hell is wrong with me?! Why does it feel like I am missing something?

Another raindrop gives me a sloppy peck on my forehead. I wipe it away in annoyance. I shouldn't be here. No, not here! What am I talking about? Well, yes, I should be at home, casting plastic smiles at Caroline and Stefan, tasting pudding. Not here under the clock tower, soaking wet. Not here... But somewhere else...

I am so engrossed in thought that a sudden hand on my shoulder gives me a jump, a gasp of surprise escaping my throat.

"Dammit, Elena! The hell are you doing here?" As I whirl around I come face to face with infuriated Damon, his eyes scorching. I blink in confusion. _Surely you're not going to cry?_ What...? "Jesus, you are soaked through. Elena..." he complains and makes a grimace as if dealing with a naughty child. _Oh, come on! You're better than spilling tears over me!_ I keep on staring at him, absolutely baffled. "Do you want to catch cold, so that you can use an excuse to spend the rest of this _normal_ Christmas in bed? Really? Duh... Ele-e-e-na..." the elder Salvatore moans theatrically and massages his temples in exasperation. I don't say a word. I wait for another strange remark from him... When none comes, I shake my head violently. Something is very wrong with me. Now I am hearing Damon's voice in my head! How _normal_ is that?!

"Sorry, I was just..." My voice drifts off into silence. Furrowing my brows, I take into my surroundings again. I was just what? Why am I even sitting here? Now fear is getting a firm grip on me as I realize that I have a gap in my memory. The last thing I remember is talking to Damon about... What exactly were we talking about? OK, don't panic. There is a thing that I _think_ that I remember. But there is also another _thing_ I kind of recall... Which one is real?! Is any? Or... can they both be true. "Hey..."

A warm hand touches my cold cheek, and a bolt of energy rushes through my body, slamming right into my mind with a force that breaks all my memory blocks. I recoil in shock from Damon, covering my mouth to stifle a yell. It is Mystic Falls. God, it is Mystic Falls! This last _experience_ (or should I call it reality-travel now?) was very - _very_ \- different. It was... all-consuming. It became my reality. The thought terrifies me. I have almost forgotten about my real self! Though, who says that this is my real self and not the other one... No, stop it! Thinking like this is dangerous. I am real, not that other Elena. Me, me, me. And this Damon. As his name crosses my mind, my eyes immediately find his bemused ones. He looks utterly lost and unsure, his sarcastic mask melting away from the heat of worry.

I don't think when I move and lock him in a tight embrace. _Ahh, yes, guilty pleasure, to simply lie down and die in the snow._ Carefully, like dealing with a wild animal, Damon wraps his arms around my waist, and I bury my face in his shoulder, holding back a sob. This is my Damon, not that other one. The real Damon, who is standing here, with me. In Mystic Falls. Not in the snowy desert at the nameless station. As much alive as he can be. Whiteness flashes before my eyes. Him lying on the snow, breathing hard and still smiling... still joking despite the pain in his wounded shoulder. For my sake... _I hate it when you cry, you know? You must be crying just to spite me._ A sob finally escapes me, but it doesn't escape Damon's sharp hearing.

"Hey... You are all soaked through without tears," he purrs into my ear while gently stroking my wet hair. "Damn, I hate it when you cry, Elena..." The dam breaks and I burst out in tears. And I can't stop. It's like watching him die from the werewolf bite all over again. Only worse. This time Damon didn't have a brother to save him. He had only useless me. Useless, stupid me! And he did... he...-

 _I knew what I was doing. It's not stupid._ I don't want to let him go. I just can't. All these feelings... They are crushing me... But they also force me to keep moving. To climb up. Just like that other Elena couldn't feel alive without Damon's challenge, I can't live in a reality without my Damon. I feel his chin resting on my head. "What is it about?" he murmurs while rocking me gently. And I can easily discern this persistent note in his caring voice that tells me that he won't leave me along without an answer. A slight smile pulls at my lips despite all the tears. Damon will never just walk away. No, he would fight, and argue, and yell... and die to make sure I am _really_ fine. It's now that I truly believe his words. Damon _will_ choose me over anyone.

He already has once. And he will again. Without hesitation.

It scares me. A lot. But another side of me, the one that other Elena tried to shut down, snickers in disbelief. I let out a defeated sigh. It _does_ terrify me. To realize that someone is ready to literally wrack the world for me is the most scaring thing I've ever known.

And the most heartening, the most delightful one. I can deny it all I want. But it won't become any less real.

I _am_ an awful person. Why can't they see it? ... Because it was me who drew an image of a tough and happy Elena, and hid behind it. Just like my last time. Another portrait. "I am an awful person," I mumble, this time aloud. This _is_ partly a reason for my crying. Damon can take it for my answer. A low chuckle takes me aback and I slightly tilt my head to look at him.

"Then I must be a saint," he doesn't even bother to put sarcasm into the tone. Damon just shrugs at my scowl. "Oh, Elena... Do you seriously need a lecture about 'no-one-is-perfect'? We are all awful. The question is how much awful we are. Well, I'd say that you are very awful at being awful. Don't worry, though," he winks at me playfully then. "I can teach you a thing or two about being really awful. If you ask me nicely."

A small chuckle erupts from my lipa as I open them to say something teasing in reply, but words freeze on my lips as a tiny white flake flies between us and lands on his chest. Damon stares at it in bewilderment. "Snow," I whisper breathlessly. Another snowflake nests comfortably in his hair. And another, and another...

"It is snowing. Damn, it's really snowing!" he cries out in disbelief that is mixed with amusement. We raise our heads and watch in amazement waltzing snowflakes. They sparkle in the street-lamps' light and quickly cover gray roads of Mystic Falls, turning it into a small snow-dwelled town from a beautiful Christmas post-card. Lit by the yellow light we stand there under the clock tower and watch snow fall around us, oblivious to the biting frost or clocks' hands that have already creeped over twelve. At last, Damon shifts his gaze to my face. A grin twists his lips as he tousles my hair, snow falling from it like an avalanche. Laughing, I step back and shove him with all the force I can manage... Well, it was much easier when I did it with Jeremy... He would lose his feet and fall into a snowdrift, and I would stand over him giggling. But Jeremy isn't a 150-years-old vampire who is like a mountain and won't even budge.

The world turns upside down. I blink. Next moment I am half buried in a snowdrift, glowering at the smirking vampire. "Oops," Damon says innocently, easily dodging my snowball. He falls next to me then. "Wow."

"It is so..." I trail off, not sure about the adjective to describe it.

"Romantic?" he suggests playfully, and I give his forearm a light punch, not bothering to suppress a chuckle.

"I was going to say magic," I reply in a mockingly reproachful voice.

"I can pretend that I bought it," Damon whispers as if sharing a terrible secret. I want to shove him playfully, but he suddenly catches my hand and presses it to his warm lips. "Hey, you are freezing." I don't feel cold... Either I am too excited or too my libs are too numb by now to feel anything. "How about something really _magic_ without turning to an icicle?" His voice is ringing with a promise of something thrilling, making me tilt my head in curiosity. He props himself on the elbows then and stares at me with this dangerous mystery I learnt to trust. "Are you up for another journey?"

"Another?..." I repeat under my breath, a soft smile grazing my lips. Damon doesn't know, of course, about the first journey. He is probably referring to our small trip that has nothing to do with trains and snow... But he made a promise once. And, somehow, deep down he does remember _._

"Yup. Surely you wanna enjoy a longer journey in my company? Our last one was _awfully_ short," Damon drawls out with a feigned pout. Chuckling, I shake my head in amazement. Is it even possible? Does other me know about this reality...? Is it how...- A naughty snowflake flies right into my mouth, causing me to cough. "Careful, Elena. You don't want to choke on your _magic_ snow. It is very...-"

I don't let him finish as I grasp his hand and spring up to my feet. Who cares about 'how' and 'why'? This is real. So very real.

As I walk away from the clock tower, I toss over my shoulder, a mischievous grin splitting my face. "You coming? Someone promised me a _long_ journey."

And it _is_ finally snowing.


End file.
